


The Crown's Heart

by jjoopea



Category: GOT7
Genre: 100 ways, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Best Friends Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam & Kim Yugyeom, Court Politics, Family Secrets, GOT7FOREVER, Historical drama, Inspired by K-Drama | Korean Drama, Joseon, Korean History, Lovers only bahaha, M/M, Martial Arts, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Social Justice, Wholesome Romance, heavily inspired by Moonlight Drawn By Clouds, i tried to do friends to lovers but jinson said no, i will finish this fic or die, jinson, legend of the blue sea, sageuk, wang gae park gae, yugbam - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23276434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjoopea/pseuds/jjoopea
Summary: Crown Prince Lee Ahn knows what it takes to become a great king. Just when the picture-perfect prince thinks he's finally mastered complete control over his emotions, he meets the charismatic and unpredictable Wang Jaegeun. With the future of Joseon hanging in the balance, who has the time to fall in love?A Joseon Jinson AU inspired by a post I saw that mashed up Legend of the Blue Sea and 100 Ways 😂
Relationships: Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Kim Yugyeom, Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Comments: 50
Kudos: 58





	1. The Crown Prince and The Candidate

“As dry as the soil after a hundred-year drought,” Prince Ahn sighs after hearing the near-hundredth declaration of unending devotion and honor etcetera etcetera. He sits still as a statue upon his throne, looking out over the top of another bowed head in the distance. Without further ado, the eunuch at his side wisely gestures for the next candidate.

Senior Eunuch Yoon Yonggun (a humble servant to His Royal Highness, Seja Jeoha Crown Prince Lee Ahn of The Great Joseon Dynasty since the most auspicious day of his birth) barely suppresses a curious glance at the prince before clearing his throat.

“Jeoha, you _are_ still breathing… aren’t you?” The eunuch asks good-naturedly.

 _Unfortunately_. Prince Ahn's inner voice drips with venom, but he says nothing more in silent protest.

Their gazes remain stoically trained toward the end of the hall where the next candidate enters, drops to his knees, and launches into a passionate (unoriginal) speech in honor of the Crown Prince. To this, the Crown Prince himself releases another belabored sigh. 

_Aigoo, that sigh was loud enough to cause a natural disaster._ Yonggun tsks to himself. He peeks over at the Crown Prince's cold and unmoving expression, then briefly looks to the heavens for strength. He knows how to read Jeoha's moods (or apparent lack thereof) better than anyone. _I guess Jeoha is capable of more than just one emotion after all_, Yonggun muses. Sensing the Crown Prince's growing impatience, the eunuch raises an arm to cut the droning speech short with a curt slicing motion near his own throat.

Prince Ahn has been conducting interviews for his royal guard like this since sunrise, and though it’s been hours since he’d become officially bored out of his royal mind, it has yet to show on his delicately handsome face. The shuffling of soft boots and the creaking of wooden doors signals the impending replacement of one recently rejected candidate with another soon-to-be reject. And so Prince Ahn resigns himself, once again, to the task of counting the rust-red painted columns that line either side of the grand hall.

_One, two, three, four…_

If the wait between candidates drags on a little longer than usual this time, the Crown Prince does not currently care enough to notice.

_Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…_

Ahn has always found it rather easy to hide his boredom during any and all princely duties he must attend to each day (and takes immense pride in the uncanny ability to keep his facial expressions completely devoid of emotion), but he can no longer ignore his growling stomach. Without turning his gaze, he abandons the unchanging column count to formally address the round-faced eunuch by his royal title.

“Yoon-negwan,” the Crown Prince purrs in a velvety smooth voice that deceptively betrays neither anger nor malice.

Yonggun immediately recognizes this chilling tone and gulps. “Yes, Jeoha?” the eunuch squeaks before hastily masking it with faked ignorance. He follows up with a small bow as an afterthought... and instantly regrets it when the Crown Prince just barely stiffens at Yonggun's cowardly anticipation for the worst. The eunuch realizes too late that he will probably get an earful for this at some later date and grimaces, lamenting the fate of his future self. The Crown Prince's grudges are truly legendary.

Ahn ignores Yonggun's suffering and decides to drop the pretense of cool-headedness, but the Prince's sharp turn of voice is still a subtle indicator of his royally souring mood. “How many more topknots must I examine from afar before we cease these pointless interviews?” Ahn asks as he turns just enough to throw a bland sidelong glance in Yonggun's general direction. 

Yonggun cannot help but admire the Crown Prince's own tidy topknot, regally protected by the shining silver dragon of his sangtugwan crown. “Jeoha,” he admonishes gently, "may I suggest asking the candidates to come closer, if the distance is distressing you so?"

The Crown Prince raises his eyebrow in disbelief. "And experience this boredom at close range?" He indicates toward the doors with an upturned palm and pauses to level out his tone. "Absolutely not." 

Ahn's dark eyes dart back to the entrance as he waits for the eunuch to respond, but Yonggun knows when to hold his tongue. He bows in apology for having suggested such a detestable solution and they allow the moment to pass in silence. Meanwhile, there is still no sign of the next candidate. Ahn notes the odd delay in proceedings but takes advantage of the momentary lack of an audience to turn and face his oldest friend and loyal servant.

“It’s not like they can hear me at this volume and distance. The Grand Hall wasn’t named in vain. In fact, it's so grand that it would be next to impossible for anyone at the entrance to hear my voice unless I decided to yell. And why does every single one of them immediately bow down without even daring to look me in the eyes? Their manners are so disappointingly identical. These interviews are useless. I’m bored, Yonggun-ah." Ahn gives a final snap of his royal robes before continuing with a mumbled, "And viciously hungry..." and turns back to face the hall with practiced poise.

Yonggun tries to take these grievances seriously, but... _Is Jeoha pouting_? He wonders incredulously. Yonggun can't stop the fond grin that eventually inches its way onto his face. It's been so long since Jeoha has complained about anything in so many descriptive sentences! Yonggun finds it rather nice to see his royal highness drop the mask and emote as genuinely as this.

“One might argue that their manners are acceptably appropriate in the Royal Palace…” Yonggun starts gently but thinks better of it and swiftly changes tact. “Shall we take a break for your morning meal now then, Jeoha?” The eunuch asks with his own brand of practiced (cheeky) poise and patience.

Before Ahn can complain about being patronized, the wooden doors of the southern entrance fly open with a bang. Ahn straightens up in his throne, attention thoroughly captured by an agitated flurry of robes and urgently approaching footsteps. Shortly thereafter, a man in plain clothing appears in the doorway, almost menacingly confident, and begins marching down the long path to the throne. Each booted step echoes through the hall as time slows down to a turtle-ish crawl.

Younggun, impressed by the timing of it all, leans in close to Ahn's ear and whispers, “Jeoha, the powers that be heard your protests and sent a more appropriate candidate, but I fear the man won't stop until he's sitting right in your lap!” He gasps and chuckles at his own jest, amused by the annoyance (or excitement?) that flits across the Crown Prince's features.

“Yes, I suppose I spoke too soon…” Ahn replies softly. He throws another weak attempt at glancing (glaring) in Yonggun's direction, but finds he is unable to look away as the new candidate draws closer. His knee begins to jiggle in anticipation, but as that's not fit behavior for a Crown Prince, he quickly smooths it over with the flat of his hand.

The candidate finally comes to an abrupt stop at the foot of the throne with a stony stare. Ahn and Yonggun lean back in surprise. The intimidating determination burning fiercely in the young man’s eyes is hard to ignore at this proximity.

"Forgive me Jeoha, but I think this candidate's gaze may frighten me even more than your most fearsome glare!" Yonggun whispers dramatically, his heart now firmly divided between jest and sincerity. The Crown Prince pointedly ignores this comment.

“Your Royal Highness Seja Jeoha,” the man finally speaks in a low voice (which Ahn notes has an attractive rasp to it). “I wish to enlist my service to your Royal Guard.” The new candidate gets straight to the point and (stubbornly) waits for Ahn to squarely meet his gaze. Only then does he drop into an over-arm bow on bended knee with a painfully audible thump. Yonggun jumps a little in surprise and subconsciously reaches for his own arthritic knee, idly wondering whether the candidate's joint is still intact after such a loud collision with the stone floor.

“My name is Wang Jaegeun. Please accept my humble pledge. I will do my best to serve and protect Seja Jeoha's honor, if Your Royal Highness deigns that I am fit to do so.” 

Prince Ahn composes himself as he gazes at the man, feeling a mixture of respect and amusement (though his face would never publicly betray such a complex reaction). When Ahn does not immediately reply, Wang Jaegeun raises his head to make shameless eye contact yet again. Ahn successfully masks the pleasant surprise at being challenged (while also blissfully unaware of the sort of fateful spark that tends to ignite upon the meeting of eyes in this manner). 

_Those eyes--he dares--_ Ahn’s thoughts come in fragments. _But isn't this the type of candidate I was hoping for?_ He can’t decide whether he should act offended (he most certainly is not) or play it cool (as would be expected from a Crown Prince of proper upbringing). Ahn takes a moment to ensure his facial features are of neutral arrangement and decides to examine the man as objectively as he would any other candidate.

_Not excessively tall nor exceedingly short. Limbs look strong and well proportioned to his frame. His gaze is clear and shrewd, the mark of a sharp mind. Skin tone denotes good health, as is easily observed at this short distance…_

The Crown Prince doesn't realize that he hasn't even verbally acknowledged the candidate's presence yet. Before he can take account of the more subjective details about the young man’s countenance (like the gentle slope of his nose and the pleasant curve of his lips), Yoon-negwan clears his throat to disrupt the awkward silence.

Prince Ahn startles (uncharacteristically) and looks over at Yonggun, lost for words. He will never admit to himself (or anyone) that for the briefest of moments, he'd completely forgotten about the eunuch's presence entirely. Yonggun is quick on the uptake and graciously covers for Seja Jeoha’s rudeness, allowing the prince time to recover from his wandering train of thought.

“Candidate Wang Jaegeun. Your name alone suggests Joseon heritage and yet your speech might imply a foreign accent, though it is admittedly very slight.” Prince Ahn's focus snaps back into place at hearing the eunuch's keen attention to detail. Yonggun hides a smug smile and continues, “You speak the Joseon language excellently. May I kindly ask where you are from?” 

“My parents belong to the Middle Empire, my lord. Forgive my impudence, but I beg you not to judge my worth based on my origins. I have lived in this country since childhood. Joseon is my home. If you give me the chance, I am prepared to prove my loyalty by serving His Royal Highness Seja Jeoha with the entirety of my being.” The candidate supplies an eloquent reply, earning several unspoken points in his favor from both Crown Prince and Senior Eunuch alike. Ahn silently observes the (alluring) sparkle in Wang Jaegeun’s eyes, still giving no indication that he is ready to speak.

“Your origins are of little importance so long as your loyalty is tried and true, Candidate-nim. Do not worry," Yonggun assures him with a nod. He then turns to the Crown Prince and astutely comes to his aid with a gentle prompt. "A candidate as forthright as this is rare to find these days, Jeoha. If you deem my judgment of character valuable enough, I beg that you consider enlisting this young man.” Yonggun’s voice rings clearly throughout the hall as he waits for a royal decision.

“I do deem your judgment worthy, Yoon-negwan,” Prince Ahn replies carefully but just as clearly to match the eunuch’s formalities. “How shall we proceed with his enlistment?” he asks while maintaining a measured gaze on Wang Jaegeun's face. 

“A candidate deemed worthy of enlistment must be admitted into a trial training period to test his skills and loyalty, Jeoha.” 

Ahn's mask is back in place as he watches the candidate's eyebrows rise (yet another handsome feature he possesses). It is such a small action, but it blatantly reveals his boundless excitement at the prospect of royal enlistment. Ahn tucks away the small pleasure of having witnessed this fleeting reaction.

“Very well,” Prince Ahn says with royal finality as he rises from his throne. “Candiate Wang Jaegeun will enter a trial training period, effective immediately. There will be no more interviews for additional positions until the current trial is complete. I trust you will make the necessary arrangements, Yoon-negwan.”

“Yes, Jeoha, of course,” Younggun replies with a bow, pleased to have found a suitable candidate at last.

As the final interview comes to a close, a curious succession of moments unfolds between the three men in the Grand Hall.

Having had his eyes on the candidate this entire time, Ahn only just manages to catch sight of the nearly foolish (but exceedingly charming) smile that brightens Wang Jaeggeun’s face before the new trainee quickly bends into a deep bow of gratitude...

... and as Wang Jaegeun bows, he only just misses a shimmer of Prince Ahn's smirk as his royal highness descends from the throne. It passes smugly over Ahn's lips at having caught a glimpse of that dopey smile...

... and it is Yonggun alone who notices when the new trainee lifts his head mid-bow, just after the Crown Prince turns away to face the western doors. It is merely a fraction of a gesture, but it permits Wang Jaegeun's eyes to surreptitiously follow and admire the easy elegance of the Crown Prince's movements as he makes a graceful exit. 

Yonggun suppresses an inquisitive glance between the two and approaches the new royal-guard-in-training with a congratulatory pat on the back. “Come along, Candidate-nim. I have a few more questions for you before we begin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by... literally every historical kdrama I've ever seen 🤣 plus legend of the blue sea and 100 ways of course!


	2. The Acrobat and The Yangban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1 year prior to the Royal Guard Interview: Wang Jaegeun is a Namsadang acrobat with the budding mind of a scholar. He loves the stage and his performance troupe family, but life as a lowly entertainer in Joseon society isn't easy. Then one day, he meets a mysterious yangban who doesn't seem to buy into the system of elitist privilege and everything starts to change.

*** * * 1 YEAR AGO * * ***

The afternoon sun beats down on the tiny no-name village where Wang Jaegeun lives. As the spring days become increasingly warmer, Jaegeun has already taken to wearing his thinnest summer clothing, a simple hanbok consisting of airy trousers and a wrap-tunic in off-white cotton suitable for commoners. He runs a hand up the nape of his neck where the skin is already starting to sting with heat. He takes care not to pull any hairs out of his minsangtu (though he suspects the topknot is already getting messy) and scowls at the inconvenience. If only he could wear a manggeon headpiece to keep everything in place (but of course, the vulgar cheonmin class aren't allowed even this simple convenience).

Jaegeun passes through the outer gates and takes the path that will lead him toward a large clearing at the edge of Hanyang. He spares a passing glance at the notice board just inside the gate. A new posting flutters there in the breeze, the neat lines of brushstroked characters effectively catching his interest.

“Japgwa Examination...” Jaegeun reads the characters out loud as he steps up to inspect the announcement more closely.

“You’re reading the hanmun again, aren’t you?” a voice somewhere behind and off to the right asks flatly.

Jaegeun yelps in surprise and turns to find Bongjoon, a fellow Namsadang member (and his unofficially adopted brother), glaring at him. The boy leans casually against a nearby tree with arms crossed over his chest, head shaking with disapproval.

“No?! I wasn’t!” Jaegeun shouts with a guilty shake of his own head and leaps away from the notice board as though burned. Bongjoon's frown deepens under a strip of red cloth tied stylishly across his forehead.

Jaegeun sees an opportunity and wags an accusatory finger at the red headband. "You've been stealing from the trunks again!" he crows in an attempt to divert the conversation.

"Have not!" Bongjoon whines and throws his arms up at the false accusation. "I needed a new outfit because I grew again, but the sashes came out way too wide! This is just the cloth leftover after I trimmed them to the right size..." He babbles and self-consciously smooths a hand over the fabric. "But that's not the point, right now. I just caught you reading out loud in public! Again!"

Jaegeun's shoulders fall as his diversion falls apart. “Yeah yeah, all right," he relents with a glower. Jaegeun reminds himself that if he could just remember to come clean to Bongjoon from the start, the discomfort at his ability to read a priveleged language would fade more quickly.

Nearly satisfied, Bongjoon throws one last chastising look at his hyung and strides away on gangly legs. Jaegeun jogs to catch up and they fall into step together towards the Namsadang clearing. Jaegeun decides to lighten the mood by throwing an arm around Bongjoon's neck. 

“Hey," he grumbles. "What did I say about sneaking up on your hyung like that?”

Bongjoon squirms and Jaegeun slowly tightens his grip. He breaks into a run and drags Bongjoon along under one arm while using his other hand to torture him with a barrage of pinches and pokes. The poor boy begins shouting at the top of his lungs with the most colorful curses Jaegeun has ever heard and it isn't long before they're both doubled over with laughter. 

"HYUNG!" Bongjoon finally screeches and Jaegeun dissolves into another fit of high-toned cackles. He finally releases Bongjoon as they draw up to the equipment tent. They duck inside and begin donning their performance attire for another day of work.

Bongjoon pulls a black tunic over his plain hanbok and wraps multiple sashes of vibrant colors around his waist. He tightens the strap of a ribboned hat under his chin and looks over at Jaegeun with a glint in his eye. “ _Geunni-hyung,_ you ready?”

Jaegeun’s smile oozes confidence. “Always!” he whoops back.

The other troupe members in the tent respond to this exchange with hoots and hollers, pumping themselves up for the performance. Jaegeun reaches into a trunk and passes over his usual military outfit in favor of a long, navy blue tunic. He wraps it snugly over his cotton hanbok and pulls on a pair of white, soft-soled shoes. A white band of cloth goes across his forehead and he tops it off with a small straw hat. 

Bongjoon slings a janggu drum over his shoulder and begins to beat out a building drumroll. Everyone gathers around Jaegeun to hype him up with encouraging chants and claps. Jaegeun whips out a white feathered fan and flutters it dramatically to Bongjoon’s janggu beat. He takes a deep bow in front of all his troupe members as they celebrate Jaegeun’s jooltagi tight rope debut.

* * *

The sun hangs low in the sky as a crowd begins to gather around the Namsadang stage, which in reality is nothing more than a modest dirt clearing. Most of the spectators are commoners, but there are plenty of middle and upper-class spectators in the crowd as well, made more visible by their brightly colored clothing and horsehair gat hats.

The drumming team manages the crowd as Jaegeun stands at one end of the tight rope, preparing himself. Though it's not set exceedingly high off the ground, it is still raised to a height that could easily result in broken bones if Jaegeun should miss a step and fall. He takes a steadying breath and bows to his audience. It's show time.

When Jaegeun finally steps out onto the rope, the crowd welcomes him to the stage with cheers and applause. He wobbles his arms and legs for dramatic effect (causing an immediate gasp from the crowd), but Jaegeun has been practicing this routine for weeks. He won’t fall.

_“Remember to stay relaxed, but never let go of your core!”_

Jaegeun recalls Mandeukki-hyung's voice, the veteran acrobat who taught him how to walk the rope for months before this day finally came. With this advice in mind, Jaegeun presses the soles of his cloth shoes evenly over the thickly wound rope and controls his breathing. He spreads his arms loosely and starts with a segment of fan tricks followed by balancing poses and some juggling, all to great reception. The routine speeds up when Jaegeun signals the drumming team to give him a beat and he starts a playful dance routine of steps, hops, jumps and turns all along the length of his precarious platform. He never loses his footing, catching more and more air with each graceful jump until his body looks as though it’s floating. He incorporates a series of mid-air turns until he gets enough momentum for a full 360 that gains him a roar of applause.

He lands in a seated position with crossed arms and legs, a pose that is punctuated by a collective clang from the brass gongs of the kkwenggwari players. When the rope dips down to its lowest point, he makes eye contact with a lone spectator standing front row and center. Before he can make out more than just a pair of dark almond-shaped eyes watching him from under the brim of a horsehair gat, the rope bounces Jaegeun back to standing and he's forced to refocus and avoid a near-fall (that he saucily plays off as another dramatization that drives the crowd wild).

_“Keep it short and sweet. Mistakes only happen if you let your mind wander or get too tired.”_

Mandeuki-hyung's words of caution suddenly come to mind. As the drumming team breaks out into a complex pattern of overlapping beats and vocalizations, he prepares for the showstopper. He builds momentum with one last series of jumps, going higher and higher until he reaches the right amount of air. After doing a quick spot check to ensure there are no stray spectators near his landing ground, Jaegeun angles his last jump away from the rope and pulls his body into a twisting flip.

In this moment, Jaegeun cannot hear a single thing. The shouts of glee and surprise from the audience, the uproar of applause, the incessant beating of instruments, it all goes away. His world is silent and slow as he flips through the air once and then twice before descending in a graceful arc. As soon as he hits the ground an arm's length away from the front row, a cloud of dust kicks up around him and the gongs and drums crash all at once like an audible exclamation point to end his performance.

Jaegeun slowly rises from the dirt in a power stance, eyes smoldering and chest heaving through the exhilaration of the acrobatics high. When the dust finally clears, he finds himself standing level with the spectator from before, a yangban with obsidian eyes. He is vaguely aware of the cacophony of cheers erupting around him, but everything looks and feels out of focus and far away. Everything except those eyes, that is. They’re deep and dark, like wet stones glittering by firelight. The young yangban claps along with a delighted smile gracing his fine features and Jaegeun finds himself absentmindedly admiring the man's lightly olive toned skin. 

Jaegeun is brought back down to earth when a group of children breaks free from the audience to gather around him. He ruffles their heads and squeezes their hands in humble gratitude of their adoring attention. Once he takes a final bow with the rest of the Namsadang performers, the crowd finally begins to disperse. Jaegeun tries to find the dark-eyed yangban in the crowd, but he's distracted by the children's continued ministrations. They hang on to Jaegeun's arms and legs as he walks back to the equipment tent, their giggles and hugs warming his heart to no end.

* * *

Jaegeun performs his jooltagi set for the remainder of the summer to great success. On the night after their last performance of the season, he gathers his closest members for a celebratory dinner. They take care to wash and change into their best cotton clothing to remove as much of the grime and dirt as possible before walking into the city. For some of the youngest members, this is the first time they've stepped foot into Hanyang solely for leisure, and it shows in the looks of awe and excitement on their innocent faces.

The city is always more alive after dark, especially in the summertime when the sticky climate carries on into the night, making it hard to sleep. In the distance, the sun is setting in hues of burnished reds and oranges as the group comes upon an outdoor tavern run directly out of the matron’s own residence. Her walled-in front madang is bustling with the dinner rush as they step up to her gate.

"Be patient, kids. We've got a group clearing out!" a kindly auntie shouts from the outdoor cooking fires with a welcoming smile. She stands before an enormous clay pot, ladling hearty portions of fragrant pork bone stew into wooden bowls that are packed onto a large serving tray. Jaegeun knows his stomach isn't the only one growling right now.

As the group waits for a table, Jaegeun looks over the low wall and takes note of the social atmosphere. Multiple raised pyeongsang platforms span the yard where patrons of all social rankings gather around short floor tables to eat, drink and socialize. Jaegeun can’t help but notice that the number of colorfully clad yangbans currently outnumbers those wearing white commoner cotton. He listens as the younger troupe members drool over the various steaming dishes spread over each table. This tavern is also particularly famous for its sweet makgeolli rice wine and everyone is looking forward to tasting it tonight. 

The matron finally beckons Jaegeun’s group to a vacant spot and they order immediately to avoid being forgotten in the rush. Once they are all comfortably seated atop a pyeongsang, cross-legged and closely gathered around a wide floor table, Jaegeun nudges Bongjoon. The boy ignores him at first in favor of plotting a way to sneak home a bottle of rice wine with his friend, but Jaegeun interrupts with a sharp poke to his ribs.

Bongjoon turns to deadpan at his hyung, obviously nonplussed, but Jaegeun ignores the attitude to quietly ask, "Did you know this place was popular with yangbans?"

Bongjoon merely shrugs. “Not really, but don’t let it bother you too much. Let's just have fun!"

Jaegeun nods reluctantly but in the end, he decides to heed this advice. Their food and drinks come out just as the sky darkens to black beyond the flickering oil lamps that hang from the tavern walls. Everything looks so good that Jaegeun forgets his worries and digs into what will surely be his best meal until next spring.

Their evening at the tavern goes on without incident, even when the group gets a little rowdier as the night wears on and the alcohol settles in. When a nearby table of young yangbans starts to get sloppy, Jaegeun sobers alarmingly fast and decides to wrap things up before an unfavorable interaction can occur. He gladly pays for dinner, knowing he raked in the most tips this year. This earns him a deafening rumble of cheers from his friends that disrupts more than a few of their fellow patrons' conversations. This is shortly followed by a fond scolding from the matron to "Shut up and go home already you punks!"

Though he thanks the matron and aunties for the delicious food with an aegyo-filled smile, Jaegeun is becoming increasingly wary of the glares coming from the table of young yangbans and wastes no more time. He ushers his friends out onto the street and back towards the city gates.

The acrobats amble along, arm-in-arm in smaller groups of three or four. Some are tipsier than others, but upon observation, Jaegeun determines that the group is not collectively drunk to the point of embarrassment. He relaxes and falls back a few paces to enjoy his last moments in Hanyang. As soon as Jaegeun returns to his village, he knows the farmers are likely to enlist his help with the fall harvest sooner rather than later.

Jaegeun looks up at the starry night sky and tunes his ears to the humming cicadas. The flickering glow of more lanterns illuminates the stalls of various vendors and the colorful clothing of passing yangbans. As the group slowly pulls further ahead of him, he turns back to make sure they haven’t left anyone behind. Across the way, he catches sight of a notice board covered in hanmun and hangeul advertisements. The prospect of getting another chance to practice his reading skills pulls him in with a magnetic force he doesn't even try to resist. He takes his time reading some sort of request from the royal military.

As Jaegeun ponders what serving in the military might be like, his thoughts are suddenly interrupted by something that sounds suspiciously like a drunken brawl. He closes his eyes with dread, praying he won’t turn to find that his friends are involved. When he finally does turn his head just enough, he spots a group of colorful hanboks roughing up his troupe members at the other end of the street.

“Ah jenjang,” he swears with a huff. He spins around to go help break up the fight and narrowly avoids colliding into a body that steps up to him out of nowhere. Distracted by his friends' cries of pain, he tries to dodge the man and get away with a mumbled apology, but the stranger moves to block his way again.

“Were you reading that notice board just now?” The young man asks urgently.

“Yes?" Jaegeun foolishly replies as he tries to lean around the brim of the man’s gat for a better view of the brawl.

"The hanmun, or the hangeul?" The yangban urges.

“Oh, what? I mean no! No naeuri _,_ of course I wasn't reading. A man of my low ranking has no right...” Jaegeun bumbles this practiced response half-heartedly, desperate to go help his friends. 

The young yangban follows Jaegeun's gaze and catches on to his concern. “I promise to help you if you answer my question,” he supplies with an outstretched arm to prevent Jaegeun from escaping. 

Jaegeun sighs with frustration but takes a second look at the man. He is much younger than Jaegeun initally thought and wears a finely woven summer hanbok dyed in a rich shade of violet. Something shiny under the yangban's hat catches Jaegeun's attention, and he is quick to identify fine embroidery of some sort curling along the edge of his manggeon headpiece. _Definitely a yangban. A very wealthy yangban._ He weighs his options and concludes that an exchange of words between fellow yangbans probably would end the fight faster than if Jaegeun tried to jump in alone, fists first.

"You have my word," the naeuri reiterates calmly.

Jaegeun makes a split-second decision and bows his head in an attempt to look submissive and apologetic. “Yes, naeuri. I was reading the hanmun. Please forgive this lowly cheonmin for entertaining foolish interests. My previous master taught me just a few characters when I was a young boy. I only wanted to see if I could still remember them…” he lies through his teeth with just the right amount of dejected guilt and holds his breath. The man doesn’t respond right away, so Jaegeun takes a chance to peer up at him in anticipation.

The young yangban fixes Jaegeun with a look that is somehow sharp and blank at the same time. Jaegeun cannot yet tell if his lie is believable because the young man's face remains strikingly emotionless, save for the slight glitter of something more dangerous in the depths of his dark eyes… Jaegeun’s own eyes widen with a lightening bolt of recognition. 

“All right," the obsidian-eyed naeuri replies. He gestures with his head (an attractive movement somewhere between a nod and a twitch) towards the escalating fight and says quite plainly, “Let’s go, then.” 

The young naeuri turns and jogs toward the fray, the long flaps of his hanbok billowing impressively behind him. He speeds up to take a running leap just before reaching the back of the closest brawling yangban and smacks down on his target’s shoulder with an expertly placed elbow. When the bully turns to face his new assailant, the handsome naeuri follows up with a quick right hook that connects squarely with the yangban’s jaw. The force of the punch drops the yangban to the ground in shock and pain, but the naeuri is already striding towards his next target.

“Wah…” Jaegeun breathes as his jaw drops at the unfolding scene. This is not what he was expecting at all. 

The handsome naeuri drops two more bullies with a couple of sharp kicks before Jaegeun snaps out of it and runs in to help. He pulls the youngest of his friends away to safety first, and then lands a punch to the side of another yangban’s head. In quick succession, he knocks down another and prevents Bongjoon from catching a punch to the face. When he turns to do a quick calculation of their odds at winning, he finds that the naeuri has already taken care of the rest of their harassers. 

Bongjoon clings to Jaegeun’s arm as they look around at their roughed up friends. When he sees that none of them look seriously hurt, Jaegeun lets out a huge sigh of relief. Meanwhile, their rescuer is wrapping things up with a death glare at the remaining yangbans who then leap up and scramble away. There is a moment of awkwardness as everyone either recovers from the adrenaline rush or takes inventory of their various scrapes and bruises. Jaegeun takes the lead and steps forward.

“Thank you, naeuri,” he says with a humbled bow. “Please tell me how I may repay your kindness.”

The young yangban is barely breathing any harder than normal. He loosens the tie of his gat and shrugs. “No, don't worry about it. That was actually pretty fun. I never see this much action in the p--” the end of his sentence is abruptly consumed as he coughs violently. The naeuri clears his throat in obvious discomfort, but for what reason Jaegeun has no idea. “Ah, I mean... that's nonsense! There's no need to repay me. It was really no trouble at all.” He shoots Jaegeun a wide-eyed, close-mouthed grin that seems a little suspicious somehow.

“Are you sure?” Jaegeun asks with a raised brow, forgetting his manners for a moment. All the yangbans he's ever met have never failed to demand some sort of payment, even for the pettiest of favors.

“Yes, but if you feel that indebted I suppose you could promise to come to my aid next time, should we ever meet again under reversed circumstances…” The young naeuri's features loosen into an expectant smile.

“Of course...” Jaegeun responds, still reluctant to let the issue of repayment drop so easily. He scratches the back of his neck with a building sense of unease. _There's bound to be a catch._

Bongjoon rushes forward to clasp the naeuri’s hand and thanks him again for his kindness. Jaegeun gathers the rest of his members to pay their respects with a proper group bow.

The kind yangban goodnaturedly shoos away their bows and Jaegeun pushes his friends toward the city gates. Once they're out of earshot, he steps up to the young man for a final word.

“I will not forget what you did for us today, naeuri,” he says quietly. Jaegeun meets the handsome man's gaze, now completely sure that this is the same dark-eyed yangban he made eye contact with at the end of his first jooltagi performance. If the man is touched by Jaegeun’s sincerity, it's too hard to tell behind his perfectly neutral expression. 

The naeuri reaches out to clasp Jaegeun’s shoulder. “For the baekseongdeul _,_ " he replies softly.

Jaegeun frowns at the apparent fondness in the man's voice and doesn't know how to respond to this simple yet profound sort of farewell. He turns the words over in his mind, wondering what they could mean having come from the mouth of an elite. The handsome naeuri turns with a final nod and heads back toward the heart of the city, leaving Jaegeun behind in a disorienting state of wonder.

Jaegeun watches as the man walks away, a steady rise of conflicting thoughts and emotions bubbling up within him. He’s never met a "good" yangban before, and certainly never one who's referred to a commoner (let alone a whole group of lowly entertainers) as proper baekseong people of Joseon.

 _I should have asked for his name,_ he thinks regretfully. Jaegeun looks down at his shoes, humbled by the experience of having his bitter preconceived notions shaken up and turned completely upside down. 

He crouches to pick up a piece of cloth he recognizes as Bongjoon’s headband. Jaegeun repeatedly clenches and unclenches it in his fist as he begins the long walk home, afraid of the new feeling that has begun to grow somewhere deep down in his heart (a feeling that he doesn't yet recognize as a sprout of hope).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so much fun! I couldn't help but think of the He Is Psychometric fight scenes while writing it ;)


	3. The Farmhand and The Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wang Jaegeun finishes a successful performance season and returns to the fields to help with the harvest. Just as fall is about to move on into winter, a mysterious visitor pays him a visit.

Jaegeun walks along the dirt path with a sack of barley thrown over his shoulder, heading home after a long day of farm work. This is the third consecutive day a villager has shown up in front of his little hut at the crack of dawn, asking for his help. Rice, sweet potatoes, barley, you name it, he's harvested it (or will eventually). He never refuses the villagers requests because he enjoys being helpful, but it’s grueling work. He's dirty, his muscles are aching, and he is by no means a morning person. Needless to say, Jaegeun is exhausted. The silver lining to all this extra labor though, is that he always gets paid with an enormous meal afterwards and then some extra to take home and store for the coming winter.

Having just eaten his fill at the barley farm, he feels sluggish and sleepy. He shifts the sack of barley from one shoulder to the other as he navigates the uneven path of packed earth beneath his feet. It rises up in a narrow strip between vast fields in different stages of harvest on either side, reminding him of the tightrope he walked across not even a week ago. Jaegeun starts to drag his feet at the thought of Namsadang because now that they're on break, Bongjoon has gone down south to his hometown. Even though this is nothing new, Jaegeun still hates going home knowing the hut will be dark and empty without his usual roommate.

The sun sets a little earlier every day now, and Jaegeun just barely makes it home before nightfall. When he rounds the final corner near his hut, he sees smoke and panics. _Did I forget to put out the cooking fire?_ he wonders as he dashes through the gate and into the front madang. He frantically runs around looking for damage, but there is none. When he wanders around to the back of his hut, he finds an elderly woman sitting before the furnace, stoking a blazing fire.

“Halmeoni! What are you doing here?” Jaegeun exclaims in surprise as he rushes forward to squat down and peer up into his favorite villager's face.

“Oh Jaegeun-ah, there you are! Finally back from the fields?” she asks with a squint against the sudden cloud of smoke that billows out from the furnace.

“Yes, it took a little longer than expected today,” Jaegeun says as he sets to work lighting the oil lamp at her feet. “How long have you been working on this fire? Are you sure you aren’t able to help out with the harvest this year?” he jokes with a convincingly serious expression.

She gives Jaegeun an all too familiar stony glare and Jaegeun cackles happily. “You would love seeing your old granny work in the fields, wouldn't you? You'll be the death of me someday at this rate. You don’t deserve to have your floors warmed up for you, you brat!” she hollers at the top of her (very healthy) lungs.

Jaegeun bursts into a roar of contagious laughter that results in a fond smile from the little halmeoni. Jaegeun crosses his arms over his knees and genuinely admonishes her now with a bit of aegyo. “Halmeoni~ you didn’t have to start a fire for me. Why did you put yourself through all the trouble with your bad back?” 

“Oh, it wasn’t me. You had a visitor,” she replies with wide eyes.

“I did?” Jaegeun tilts his head, wondering if it might be Mandeuki-hyung. 

“You better not get used to this, my back is killing me. Oh, here!” Halmeoni reaches into an extra pocket sewn onto her chima skirt and pulls out a scrap of paper that is so worn it’s nearly as soft as fabric. She shakes it out in Jaegeun’s direction, prompting him to take it.

Jaegeun gives her a curious look and takes the paper from her hand. Once delivered, halmeoni sees fit to launch into an account of her encounter with the visitor.

"You won’t believe how long it took me to find paper for him. He had to use a twig and berry juice to write it though. No one around here has ink or brushes, don’t know what he was thinking. And that scrap! It actually came from Mrs. So's packet of medicinal herbs! She takes a tonic for her lungs, you know she’s not so good at breathing. I tried to tell him I’d pass the message along to you myself, but he insisted that you had to be able to read it. What a strange yangban he was…” she clucks her tongue in annoyance.

“A yangban?” Jaegeun thinks for a moment. There’s only one yangban he’s talked to recently that comes to mind...

“Oh yes! Beautiful hanbok he had on, blue as the sea. Pretty face on him too.” Halmeoni winks and cackles at her own silliness. “Go on sweetie, read the damn thing already. No use being shy if you’re already going around bragging to all the handsome yangbans that you can read.”

Jaegeun’s attention is so focused on the note and his mysterious visitor that he can’t even think of a smart remark to her dig. He frowns while holding the scrap up to the lantern light, the growing darkness making it hard to discern the two short lines of scratchy characters. 

“I came all this way to visit, but it seems you are out. I will try again tomorrow.” Jaegeun reads out loud. “It’s not signed…” he says disappointedly.

“How uneducated for a yangban,” halmeoni scoffs sarcastically and Jaegeun laughs. “Who is he, Jaegeun-ah? He said he was a friend, but I didn’t believe him. Yangbans are seldom true friends to people like us…” she trails off sadly and looks off into the distance.

Jaegeun shifts uncomfortably at this and eventually stands to pace the yard. The villagers don’t know he’s an entertainer (or they don’t let on if they do know), which places him at a lower social ranking than even the sangmin class of laboring commoners. He’s actually not even sure what the villagers know or think about him. He figures they’ve gossiped amongst themselves enough to come to their own conclusions, but no one has ever directly asked and he’s never volunteered to talk. This suits him just fine though, being a Middle Empire orphan with nothing to his name. He’s just glad he finally saved up enough money to settle down in a village where the people don’t seem to mind his presence too much.

“I’m not sure who he is, halmeoni,” Jaegeun finally answers with a shrug. “I guess we’ll find out if he shows up tomorrow.”

After walking granny back home, Jaegeun takes his time to enjoy the last of the summer air with a quick stroll around the village by lantern light. _It’s got to be the same yangban. _He calls to mind the image of obsidian eyes peering out from under the brim of a gat, feeling certain. There’s no other yangban he knows that would call himself a friend. Jaegeun wonders why a man of his status would come all this way himself just to visit. “And how the hell does he know where I live?” he yelps with the realization.

A deeper sense of unease begins to encroach on his thoughts as Jaegeun returns to his hut. He double checks that the furnace fire is completely out and winds down for some much needed sleep. After washing up at the large stone basin of well water in the yard, he plucks a length of clean linen off the clothesline to pat himself dry and plops down on the porch to shuck off his _jipshin_ shoes, wondering whether the yangban really will “try again tomorrow”. 

When Jaegeun ducks through the rice paper paneled doors of his hut, he startles at the sight before him. His thick bedding blankets and pillows have already been laid out, even though he definitely remembers folding them up in the corner of his room early this morning. The hair-prickling sensation of being watched trickles down his spine.

He crawls forward to tentatively slide a hand between the layers and discovers that the blankets are completely warmed through. He roughly estimates that it would take the heat from even a decently large fire at least a few hours to emanate through the floor to this extent. Jaegeun knows better than to assume that halmeoni is the culprit (with her bad back), but he can’t figure out why the yangban (or any visitor) would do something like this. 

He changes into fresh undergarments and decides to forego his tunic tonight, knowing the extra heat will be more than enough to keep him warm (especially because he already runs hot without the help). He blows out the lantern and dives under the blankets, squirming to find a comfortable position to relax into, but it’s just too warm for comfort. He reemerges with a huff and kicks the blankets off in frustration when he can’t get the image of the pretty yangban out of his head.

“Why is he so obsessed with reading?” he asks aloud in the darkness. “Is it really a crime for a lowly cheonmin to be caught reading hanmun? Will I be arrested? Sentenced to life in prison? Or death?” Jaegeun balks and pulls the blankets back over his head at the thought.

His body is exhausted, but his mind is wide awake with anxiety now. Jaegeun closes his eyes with a deep inhale and lets his mind wander back to images of the countryside. The fields, the farmers doing their harvest work, the crop yield loaded onto carts that will eventually make their way into the city, the busy market stalls where the farmers will sell their harvest… and finally he drops off to sleep.

* * *

Unfortunately, the yangban doesn’t show up the next day. Or the day after that. Jaegeun accepts that he might not ever show up and quickly falls back into his routine until the big jobs for all the village farms are finally complete. 

As he walks home from his last job (a cattle farm on the other side of the hill), sweaty and dirty and just about ready to drop the heavy bag of salted meats so he can take a quick nap under the nearest tree, he sees a figure walking in the distance. He squints and tilts his head, just able to make out a richly dyed stone-gray hanbok topped by the unmistakable silhouette of a wide-brimmed gat. 

When the figure stops to clasp his hands behind his back, Jaegeun takes a moment to appreciate this picturesque moment. A finely dressed yangban standing alone against a beautiful forested landscape. Many of the trees up north have already begun changing colors, which only increases Jaegeun’s desire to commit this image to memory. He looks down at his own clothing, smudged all over with earth and sweat, suddenly embarrassed by the dirt under his fingernails and the mud caking his shoes.

“Stop that,” Jaegeun scolds himself. “Farming is nothing to be ashamed of. Nor is being an entertainer.” Feeling brave, he decides it’s time to get some answers. “Naeuri!” he bellows before he can think to hesitate, unconcerned because what harm could it really do? The worst case scenario is that this man isn’t the yangban he’s thinking of. 

Seemingly recognizing Jaegeun as well, the yangban raises his arm in greeting. “Hello there!” he shouts back with a wave.

Jaegeun steels himself and marches forward to close the distance, compiling a list of questions with each step. He keeps his eyes fiercely focused on his target until he’s close enough to recognize those large, almond-shaped eyes. When Jaegeun finally draws up close, however, his becomes a little muddled when he witnesses the full beauty of the man's striking eyebrows and shapely lips under full daylight (ahem).

The handsome yangban merely nods when Jaeguen approaches him (a greeting that simultaneously acknowledges Jaegeun's presence as well as the naeuri's desire to move along in a single brief gesture). Then he turns and strides away in the other direction without another word. Jaegeun gapes after him for several steps. _Huh?_ he wonders stupidly, only slightly annoyed at the odd sense of regal importance emanating from the strange man. 

The yangban stops to throw a questioning look over his shoulder. “Aren’t you coming?” he asks innocently.

Jaegeun suppresses the urge to swear, hoists up his bag of salted meats, and jogs to catch up. “Where are we going, naeuri?” 

“To your home, of course. I imagine you must have a lot of questions for me…” The yangban sneaks a sidelong glance in Jaegeun’s direction that doesn't go unnoticed. Jaegeun almost pulls a muscle rolling his eyes at this obvious understatement.

“You have no idea,” Jaegeun mutters under his breath instead, catching on to the implication that the yangban wants to wait and have a proper conversation over a cup of tea or something. He covers up his rudeness with a curt bow in agreement and steps ahead to lead the way. _Just you wait. I’m going to pester you until all my questions are answered to my complete satisfaction._

* * *

When they finally step through Jaegeun’s front gate, he is ravenous. He had politely refused the meal at the cattle farm in favor of cooking up the old vegetables in his cellar that will undoubtedly spoil if left uneaten any longer. Still feeling a little surly, Jaegeun stores the salted meats and wordlessly gestures for the yangban to have a seat on his porch. Then he busies himself with the task of washing up and cooking a quick meal. He's feeling pretty disgusted by his own surliness by now, but knows the hunger is also to blame and therefore can't be helped (oh well). 

“Ah, there's no need to cook! I’ve already eaten,” the yangban explains as he watches Jaegeun start a cooking fire. Obviously this yangban thinks Jaegeun is feeling obliged to treat his guest to a homecooked meal (scoff). 

Jaegeun stops and stares at the yangban just long enough to see him lean back from the sudden hostility. Satisfied at having pulled some sort of reaction out of him, Jaegeun belatedly bows. “My apologies naeuri, but I must eat before we talk. I’ve been working in the fields all day and I’m very hungry.”

Jaegeun straightens up and inspects the yangban’s face, surprised to see a faint pink tinge rising in the young man's cheeks. Jaegeun narrows his eyes in cold disbelief, wondering how on earth common literacy can be perceived as a crime while blushing attractively when you’re clearly at fault for something isn’t. 

“Oh, yes! Of course,” the yangban replies awkwardly and clasps his hands in his lap. “Please don't rush. I have a horse with me this time, so I am in much less of a hurry tonight.” 

By the time Jaegeun throws together a simple meal of mixed-grain rice and soy bean stew with all his leftover vegetables thrown in, the yangban has inspected every detail of his home to keep himself entertained. Jaegeun can’t help shooting little glances at the yangban between tasks to keep a wary eye on this strange visitor. When he's finally ready to eat, he plonks himself down at the floor table he previously set for one.

The yangban sits quietly on the edge of the porch as Jaegeun begins to shovel down his food, just barely maintaining any semblance of table manners. Once the first few bites hit his stomach though, his impatience gets the better of him. He smacks his spoon down on the table (admittedly a little harder than he meant to), and turns to look at the (distractingly handsome) yangban.

“Why are you here? Naeuri?” Jaegeun only just remembers to toss in the formal title at the end of his question.

Time seems to slow down for the next few seconds as Jaegeun watches the yangban's profile pausing in thought. His long slender fingers reach up to loosen the tie of his gat with a gentle tug. Once removed, a topknot of shiny black hair appears, kept tidy by a mesh manggeon headband studded on either side with jade buttons. Jaegeun gulps, suddenly nervous at this oddly terrifying (thrilling?) build up to what he expected would be a simple answer. 

“I didn’t realize it was your last show when I saw you last. I thought I would be able to attend another Namsadang performance and catch up with you afterwards for a word…” the yangban trails off and smoothly turns to look Jaegeun squarely in the face. 

Jaegeun is not sure why, but he can't seem to look into those obsidian eyes for much longer than a few seconds at a time. The yangban’s response is not really a full answer to his question, but he senses that it would be better to wait than to push the man for more details. Jaegeun clenches his jaw a couple times to bite back the threat of word vomit and goes back to eating. _So much for pestering him with questions, you idiot_ , he scolds himself. 

“Oh! I brought you a gift!” The yangban sets down his gat and abruptly stands as though about to enter Jaegeun’s hut. 

“What?” Jaegeun shouts and looks up in surprise, both at the notion of being given a gift out of nowhere and in anticipation of having to stop the yangban from barging into his room.

The yangban points at the door. “I left it inside for safe keeping” he says matter-of-factly. “Go on, take a look!”

Letting his curiosity take the lead, Jaegeun crawls over to pull open the rice-paper paneled door to his room. Something wrapped in a bundle of lavender silk sits on the floor just inside. He peeks under the knot to see that it’s a stack of books, but Jaegeun is so confused that he can’t even think to be grateful at the chance to read to his heart’s content. If this yangban really was the one who visited before, started the fire and made up his bed, then this is technically the second time the stanger has crossed a personal boundary. A spark of angry suspicion flares up inside Jaegeun and he finally decides that enough is enough. 

“Look here you nosy yangban,” Jaegeun stands and turns to look down on the infuriating visitor standing at the foot of his porch. “First you coerced me into admitting that I can read hanmun, then you said there’s no need for repayment after you helped save my friends. You somehow found out where I live, came into my home to start a fire and touched my belongings only to leave behind a cryptic note, telling of a promise you didn’t even keep by the way,” Jaegeun’s voice continues to rise in conjunction with his anger, “and now you’ve snuck a gift into my room while I was away?! A gift of books for a lowly commoner? What on earth is wrong with you? Why are you doing this?”

Before Jaegeun’s anger can peak, the yangban raises his hands. “Calm down, Wang Jaegeun--”

“How do you know my name?!” Jaegeun interrupts with a snarl and takes a threatening step forward.

The yangban stands his ground. “Please wait. I understand where your confusion is coming from. I was just trying to be friendly, to establish some trust, it’s nothing to be this angry about. Give me a chance to explain.”

Jaegeun’s nose flares as he tries to calm down. He realizes how silly it must seem to be angry in the face of repeated acts of selfless kindness, but he is so frustrated by all the ridiculous beating around the bush when it comes to the likes of these yangbans. “I’m listening,” Jaegeun finally says through clenched teeth.

Realizing he’s been given the chance he asked for, the yangban’s face brightens a fraction. “Allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Jinyoung,” the yangban says with a respectful 90-degree bow. “Please sit and return comfortably to your meal. I promise to explain everything.” 

“There he goes making promises again...” Jaegeun mutters as he stiffly sits back down and picks up his spoon. “Just… Jinyoung?” he asks when he realizes the yangban withheld his family name.

“Yes, just Jinyoung,” he repeats without further explanation. Jaegeun takes a large bite of rice and watches Jinyoung-naeuri slip off his shoes.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Jaegeun stammers around a mouthful of rice.

Looking determined, Jinyoung-naeuri moves to sit cross-legged directly across the table from Jaegeun who immediately coughs, almost choking at the unexpected proximity. He recovers and tries to go back to eating, but finds it hard to focus on anything else now that he can clearly see the man's (aggravatingly beautiful) face up close every time he looks up from his food.

“I brought the books because I thought you would enjoy them. You obviously spend all that time staring at notice boards because you don’t get to read much out here in the countryside.” Jinyoung-naeuri finally begins talking in a way that catches his attention. “Wang Jaegeun, you are undoubtedly an excellent performer and a polished entertainer, but we don’t live in a society that harbors any formal respect for such pursuits. I suppose I could be wrong about you since we've only just met but…” When he hesitates, Jaegeun looks up from the table to firmly meet his gaze. “I have a feeling that you care about bigger issues. Issues that, if changed, may leave a lasting mark on the history of Joseon. Let's just say, I see your potential and I want to help you get there.” 

Jaegeun observes quietly as the dangerous glimmer returns to Jinyoung-naeuri’s eyes and wonders if this is some sort of scam. “How?” he asks, even though he’s still suspicious and has no idea where “there” even is. 

Jinyoung-naeuri points to the bundle of books. “By reading those books and passing the Japgwa civil service exam."

“You’re joking,” Jaegeun barks with a laugh.

“I assure you I'm not,” Jinyoung-naeuri says with a straight face. “I know you're interested in military strategy. If you join the military and take the exam while making a good impression there, it wouldn’t be hard for you to rise up through the ranks at all.” 

Having finally reavealed his secret master plan, Jinyoung waits for Wang Jaegeun's answer with bated breath. 

“And then what?! Wait, first of all, why are you assuming you know what my interests are? And second, you’re joking!” Wang Jaegeun repeats it more loudly this time. He tosses his spoon back down on the table with a clatter. An incredulous and theatrical smile rises to his cheeks as he crosses his arms. “You’re forgetting something incredibly important about Joseon society, Jinyoung-naeuri. I am a vulgar. Cheonmin _._ Entertainer." He punctuates each painful word with sharp jabs to the table. "There is absolutely no way I would be allowed to take the Japgwa exam!” He starts laughing a little maniacally now. “I can’t believe I almost believed you for a moment.” He frowns. "How do you know so much about me?" Jaegeun asks in a low growl that faintly reminds Jinyoung of an angry (hungry?) tiger.

“I may have talked to some of your Namsadang colleagues…” Jinyoung holds his breath, knowing that no matter how hard it is, telling the truth is always better.

Wang Jaegeun turns his head to give a wide-eyed, gaping-mouthed stare to which Jinyoung grimaces apologetically. Looking at it this way, even Jinyoung is a little shocked by the effort he’s put into tracking this man down.

"But you're forgetting something too..." Jinyoung says as he leans across the table to refocus Wang Jaegeun’s attention. Jaeguen throws an untrusting side-eye, but waits for Jinyoung to continue. “Cheonmin entertainers have no official records with any governing body in Joseon.” 

If Jinyoung had a pin, this would be the perfect time to drop it. 

*** * * 10 MINUTES LATER * * ***

Jaegeun has been eating in silence. He heard what Jinyoung-naeuri said about there being no cheonmin records. He even understands what the implication is. But something still isn't adding up. He's not sure what it is yet, but for now he will finish his food in peace. He wants plenty of time to think before willingly entangling himself in whatever mess this naeuri is concocting.

*** * * ANOTHER 10 MINUTES LATER * * ***

Jinyoung has been waiting in silence (more or less). He's sighed at increasing volumes and rapped his fingers on the table at increasing speeds, but every time he tries to elicit some sort of response, Jaegeun merely holds up a hand. It's a very unusual occurrence for Jinyoung to be on the receiving end of nonverbal orders like this and it's starting to test his patience. Every time Jaegeun calmly returns to his chewing, Jinyoung gets the urge to knock the spoon right out of his hand, but that would be beneath him. He's done his best to ignore the desire to react childishly and respect Jaegeun's need for quiet and nourishment, but now this is just getting ridiculous.

Jaegeun finishes his last bite, but he still can't find his words. Keeping his eyes downcast, he begins cleaning up after himself.

Jinyoung keeps a watchful eye as Jaegeun gathers his wooden bowls and utensils, steps off the porch, and into his shoes. When Jaegeun walks across the yard, Jinyoung breaks the silence.

"What could possibly be so confusing that you need this much time to think?" 

Jaegeun drops the stack of dishes into the stone basin. He turns to face Jinyoung-naeuri's seated profile and decides he's had enough. He doesn't care what the naeuri is offering. His life is fine the way it is, physically hard at times, but simple. It's obvious to him now that the naeuri is trying to recruit him for some greater cause, most likely a political one, considering his yangban status. It will no doubt make Jaegeun's life increasingly difficult and complicated if they come to an agreement about... whatever this is really about.

"You know what, naeuri? This entire situation is fishy and I don't trust you. Please take your books and leave."

Jaegeun gestures toward the front gate with a curt jerk of his chin. He knows he's being incredibly rude in the face of their gap in status (he's been rude this entire time to be honest), but hopefully the lack of manners will make it easier for the naeuri to give up.

Jaegeun watches as Jinyoung-naeuri rests his hands over his knees. He turns his head to fix Jaegeun with a stare of... an emotion he can't quite pinpoint, but Jaegeun refuses to back down. After a long moment Jinyoung-naeuri stands from the porch to make one final address.

"I will leave as you wish if you answer one last question."

Jaegeun rolls his eyes and shrugs in assent (his behavior is bordering on treason now). 

"Was I wrong to think you care about bigger issues? Why do you know how to read hanmun?" Jinyoung-naeuri asks.

"That's two questions," Jaegeun scoffs in reply. He's starting to think halmeoni was right to call this man an uneducated yangban, but Jinyoung-naeuri is quick to respond.

"Take your pick and answer one then."

Jaegeun clenches his jaw, wondering which answer will drive this yangban off his property faster. It'd be lying to say he's not itching to get his hands on those books... and ridding himself of vulgar cheonmin status sounds like a dream, but he's also curious what Jinyoung-naeuri's motive is and where all his faith in Jaegeun's character is coming from.

"Look here, naeuri. I still don't get what you're trying to do, but if my cheonmin status isn't a problem then surely something else will come up to ruin your plan."

"Such as..."

"I'm from the Middle Empire, okay? That's how I know how to read hanmun _._ " Jaegeun blurts it out without thinking but stands his ground. Just as there's nothing wrong with being a farmer or an entertainer, there is absolutely nothing wrong with his origins.

Jinyoung-naeuri merely tilts his head in response (most likely in disbelief, but the man's face is so unreadable it's damn near impossible to tell).

"Why are you so convinced that's going to be a problem?" The yangban asks plainly.

As Jaegeun stalls for an appropriate retort, Jinyoung-naeuri ignores his promise to leave even though Jaegeun has now answered his one last question. He returns gracefully to his seat looking rather unconcerned (as if he already knows Jaegeun will soon return to his seat as well). 

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Jaegeun splutters as he does indeed rush back over to sit next to Jinyoung-naeuri again. (Jinyoung smiles just a touch at this, but Jaegeun is too fretful to notice.)

"How could I dare to take the Japgwa?"

"What's stopping you?" Jinyoung asks quietly, genuinely curious.

Jaegeun doesn't know what to say.

Jinyoung takes a deep breath. "You can't roll over and give up just because the people with power have reasons or _excuses_ to believe you can't do it."

Jaegeun stills. The man has a point.

"There are all these unofficial rules about certain classes being banned from trying to better their lives by seeking out even the lowest court positions, but most don't even have access to the type of scholarly education needed to climb the social ladder anyway. Many are even quite content with their impoverished lives as long as they can provide their families with the bare minimum to survive. So why make such a fuss about banning them from social advancement at all?"

Jinyoung turns to him with an imploring look, but Jaegeun shakes his head, waiting to hear the answer.

"The yangbans are scared. Sharing such knowledge with lower classes would diminish power among the select elite. That combination of fear and power is dangerous." Jinyoung pauses for effect before he delivers his punchline. "And I want to wipe it out of the palace entirely."

Jaegeun's mouth drops open. This naeuri is operating on much higher stakes than Jaegeun could have ever guessed. He's a little shell-shocked by the sudden flood of social dialogue, but he gets it. Jinyoung-naeuri understands the true face of Joseon society.

Inspired by the sight of the gears turning in Jaegeun's head, Jinyoung continues. "The rules preventing lower classes from applying for court positions are merely rumors. Your official records won't start until the day you actually apply for a position. From what I've seen, most commoners are too scared into submission to realize there is no evidence of cheonmin status other than the way you dress or talk... so what's stopping you, Wang Jaegeun? Especially when you'd have a sponsor like me to help you prepare for any obstacle that may come your way?"

When Jaegeun still looks unconvinced, Jinyoung tries a different angle. "Even if someone did want to check your records later on, the oldest entry would be the date you enlisted in the military. But I hope you won't let your descent hold you back. Isn't it cruel to be treating yourself so harshly?"

Jaegeun lets these words sink in, eyebrows furrowed under all the new information to consider. They sit together on his porch, watching the sky as it takes on vibrant splashes of red and orange off in the distance.

Jinyoung considers Jaegeun's situation. It's a detail he wasn't expecting and perhaps he should be a little more concerned about it, considering the evil nature of his foes in the palace. They're infamous for digging until they find even the smallest detail that could dirty an opponent's name. He's rather relieved that it isn't something more serious though, like Jaegeun being secretly related to one of those corrupt court officials, for example. For now, Jinyoung chooses to focus on the present. He must convince Jaegeun to say yes.

"This is crazy," Jaegeun speaks up, bringing Jinyoung out of his thoughts and back to their conversation. "Do you hear the words that are coming out of your mouth? You want me to study those books, enlist in the royal military, take and pass the Japgwa, and then what? Infiltrate the palace?"

"That's actually a very concise summary, yes." Jinyoung smiles fully now. They're getting close to an agreement. He knew Wang Jaegeun would come around.

Jaegeun stares on in disbelief, eyes wide and forehead wrinkled in dumbfounded awe. "Who are you? Why should I trust you?"

Jinyoung looks into Jaegeun’s eyes, sensing that this is the moment to show his sincerity and finally earn Jaegeun's trust (or at least some solid respect).

"I owe you an apology. I know I've overstepped your boundaries in my haste to recruit you. I want you to trust me when I say I don't like the state of Joseon's social and political climate, but I have no choice but to participate in order to protect the baekseongdeul."

Jaegeun notices how stealthily Jinyoung-naeuri avoids his first question and his eyebrow quirks at the mention of that word again. Baekseongdeul, people of the nation. _Who is this strange man? The way he talks... it's dangerous._ Jaegeun watches as a thoughtful expression takes over Jinyoung-naeuri's face. The yangban looks off into the distance for a while before continuing.

"The palace is a scary place, Wang Jaegeun. An ally can become an enemy in the time it takes to blink. I suppose I should give you a fair chance to refuse, but I hope you'll say that you'll join me. I need to know who my people are in the palace if I want to make Joseon a better place, but it's not easy to do all this on my own."

Jinyoung-naeuri's gaze is incredibly sincere when he turns back to look at Jaegeun. As moving as this moment is, something is still niggling at the back of Jaegeun's mind.

"Now can we start phase two of this plan or not? What do you say?" Jinyoung-naeuri asks, eyes shining with hope and anticipation.

"Phase one was about trying to convince me, right?"

Jinyoung-naeuri flashes a dazzling grin under the glow of the setting sun and nods once in confirmation.

Jaegeun notices that Jinyoung-naeuri's eyes aren't as dark as he initially thought. In this light, at this close range, they're more of a deep umber than the glittering obsidian he'd seen previously. Jaegeun drops his head, if only to hide his own relenting smile. The naeuri's passion to bring about change is contagious. Judging by all their reactions up until now, his cause does seem to speak to all the troubles Jaegeun has been grumbling about lately.

"All right, I'm in. Where do we start?"

* * *

Jinyoung-naeuri starts by describing the phases of his plan. Phase one was about getting Jaegeun to agree to the plan (a ridiculously arduous process that ended in success). Phase two is preparing Jaegeun for the Japgwa exam and then enlisting him in the militia come spring. Phase three will apparently get Jaegeun into the palace somehow, but Jinyoung-naeuri opts to talk about that later. By now the colors of the sunset are quickly fading into the deeper purples and blues of imminent night time and darkness.

"Your first task is to find the military tactics text in the stack of books I brought today. Read it cover to cover, study it, memorize it. I'll be back to check on your progress as soon as I can," Jinyoung-naeuri says as they cross the madang _,_ pass through the entrance, and step out onto the dirt path. Jinyoung unties his horse from the post near Jageun's front gate.

"Hey naeuri, how old are you anyway?" Jaegeun asks out of the blue, leaning back on the garden wall, all casual-like in demeanor, a stark contrast to his formal speech.

"Why? Can't stand taking orders from a yangban who's younger than you?"

"Year of the dog," Jaegeun replies, not taking the bait and gesturing toward himself.

"Are you? Huh," Jinyoung says, a little bemused. He'd expected Jaegeun to be older. "Likewise," he adds, gesturing at himself in a similar fashion.

Jaegeun nods at this with a little smirk, filing the information away for later. Jinyoung mistakes his silence for discontent at having to address him formally even though they're the same age.

"You know what? Now that it's out we're same-age friends, I want you to stop calling me naeuri."

"Are you sure?" Jaegeun asks, a little surprised.

"Yeah... naeuri doesn't suit me." Jinyoung's not sure when exactly he should tell Jaegeun about the precise title that _would_ suit him, but he feels like holding on to that secret for just a little longer.

"What... should I call you then?"

"Amongst ourselves?" Jinyoung looks up at the moon and chuckles. "Just Jinyoung."

Jaegeun laughs, still wondering why this yangban is being so mysterious even after he's agreed to join him. "All right, then _Just Jinyoung_. I think you still owe me an apology."

Jinyoung smiles at first, enjoying how easily Jaegeun drops the formal speech to address him like they're already close friends. He finds it rather refreshing. Then he processes the rest of Jaegeun's comment and tilts his head in confusion. "An apology?"

"Yes. You said you owed me an apology before, but you never _actually_ apologized." Jaegeun gives his best shit-eating grin, enjoying this sudden shift in the power dynamic.

Meanwhile Jinyoung takes the comment a little too seriously. His mouth forms a small, soundless O that he quickly covers with a polite hand. "You're right." Jinyoung gathers his hands and bends into a deep bow. "I am very sorry for all the trouble I've brought upon you thus far and for being so thoughtless with my apology," he intones with formalities fit for addressing the king. Then he peers up at Jaegeun with his own grin, the first Jaegeun has ever seen to reach the naeuri's eyes, making them wrinkle adorably at the corners.

Jaegeun laughs delightfully and pulls his new friend back upright. Jinyoung feels a little foolish, but joins in with a quiet chuckle to brush off the awkwardness. Then Jinyoung has a somber thought.

"Seriously though, I am sorry to be pulling you into all of this if it's against your will. If you want to back out, this is your last chance." 

Jaegeun shakes his head. "It's not against my will. I'm not sure what you've got planned for phase three, but if you're looking for loyalty among scores of questionable allies, I want to prove you chose the right person to stand at your side." Jaegeun gives Jinyoung's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He's not sure when his suspicion turned into camaraderie, but Jaegeun reminds himself that befriending people has always been one of his special talents. He also knows he doesn't have the attention span to hold a grudge for very long either.

"What about Namsadang? Your life here in the village? Taking the position next to me may turn into a lifelong commitment. You'll have to leave everything here behind."

Jinyoung hadn't planned to have this particular conversation with Jaegeun until phase three of the plan, but for whatever reason it feels right to say it now.

"Wah... you didn't think to mention that before you asked me to join you?" Jaegeun laughs to make sure Jinyoung knows he's only joking.

"I guess there are a lot of things I should have handled differently..." Jinyoung says, not catching the jest and looking a little put out.

"Hey. Phase one may have been a little crazy, but I agreed in the end, didn't I? I'll take care of leaving my old life behind when the time comes, so don't worry. Just know that I wouldn't be saying all this right now if I wasn't already prepared to start a new life."

Jinyoung can't find the right words to express himself. He clasps Jaegeun's hand in gratitude, trying to use his eyes to convey everything he doesn't know how to say. When Jaegeun returns the gaze, his large chestnut-brown eyes shining in the moonlight, Jinyoung can somehow tell his meaning was well-received and returned in equal measure. Their bond may be new, but it feels strong (and may already be taking root much deeper than they realize).

The two exchange silent goodbyes as the stars blink to life above and Jinyoung mounts his horse. As the strange yangban-turned-friend rides back toward Hanyang, Jaegeun gets the feeling that his life is about to change for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of tension, some snarkiness, but mostly building momentum here. Wasn't kidding about the slow burn, I'm afraid 🙃


	4. The Student and The Sponsor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Ahn returns to the palace and finds himself in an enormous amount of trouble that delays his next adventure. Winter arrives and Jaegeun hunkers down with the books to study for the Japgwa. Then when a blizzard hits, he gets another visit from his new friend.

Prince Ahn gently shuts the nondescript door and leans back against it, breathless after sprinting to this far corner of the palace just to gain entry undetected. Before long, Yoon-negwan rounds the corner to join him, bouncing with anxiety.

“Jeoha! Where on earth have you been? Do you even know what time it is?” the eunuch yelps, but he can’t help but notice the exhilarated fresh-from-an-adventure flush on the Crown Prince’s face.

Ahn’s smile fades. He snuck out of the palace early this morning and now it’s hours past sunset. There’s no way his absence went unnoticed this time. _I’m in so much trouble_ , he thinks, closing his eyes and breathing deeply to calm his racing heart. 

“Please forgive me Jeoha, but you’re in so much trouble!” 

Ahn merely scowls in response to the eunuch’s aggravatingly accurate statement of the obvious and Yoon-negwan whimpers apologetically. He’s had a hell of a day trying to cover for the Prince’s mysterious disappearance, which was only made worse by his failure to turn up past nightfall. 

“Joongjeon-mama is worried sick, she’s been looking everywhere for you--”

“And abba-mama?”

“Jusang-Jeonha hasn’t stepped a single foot out of his study since you were reported missing early this afternoon!”

Ahn suppresses a groan. “Reported missing? That was hardly necessary,” he mumbles, but fails to make any further argument. He fiddles with the cuff of his stone-gray hanbok as his princely disposition comes flooding back. Ahn was quite proud of the idea to disguise himself the very first time he’d successfully snuck out of the palace, but tonight? This “Crown Prince” in plain clothing feels very small and insignificant indeed. 

Yoon-negwan catches Jeoha’s sleeve. “Let’s hurry back to your chambers before--”

“The King shows up?” a chilling voice calls from under a nearby fir tree.

“We’re dead!” Yoon-negwan squeaks as he and Prince Ahn share a wide-eyed look of pure terror.

His Royal Highness, Jusang Jeonha King Lee Hoon of The Great Joseon Dynasty steps out from the shadows, nearly glowing with fury. Though it is now late into the evening, he still dons his royal crimson robes, the appropriate daywear for a King attending to his various duties within the palace. Ahn lowers his eyes away from the elaborate golden insignias stitched onto his father’s chest and shoulders. The curling draconic embroidery glints in the moonlight, a menacing portent of the worst yet to come. Instead, the Crown Prince shoots a warning glance at his servant to keep quiet, but the eunuch is already turning away to face the King. Without meeting King Hoon’s eyes, Yoon-negwan falls to his knees in desperate supplication.

“I deserve death, Your Majesty! This is all my fault! I will gladly accept any and all forms of punishment you deem appropriate!” Yoon-negwan practically sobs as his forehead grazes the grass at King Hoon’s feet. 

The Crown Prince closes his eyes, fists and jaw firmly clenched. Nothing makes him feel guiltier than watching his loyal servant shoulder the blame for his mistakes. 

“Leave us,” King Hoon declares before Ahn can shield the eunuch from punishment. The King's commanding voice rings out through the night air, chilling Ahn to the bone. 

“But Your Majesty,” Yoon-negwan grovels.

It takes but a single glare from the King to make the eunuch obey. As Yoon-negwan reluctantly scuttles away, Ahn tries to steel himself for the storm, but it's already incredibly embarrassing to be standing before the King like this.

“Abba-mama,” Prince Ahn begins, though he has no idea what to actually say. A scolded child in the face of his father’s silent anger, Ahn hangs his head.

“Explain yourself,” King Hoon demands quietly.

An awkward silence hangs painfully between them as King Hoon waits for an explanation, but Prince Ahn had not thought to plan ahead for anything like this. He wasn’t expecting to be caught at all, in fact. All his previous excursions went off without a hitch! 

_That’s because all your previous excursions never lasted longer than an hour or two_ , _you fool,_ his conscience points out nastily. 

Ahn knows deep down that he’s been gambling with chance from the very first outing, the night of the last Namsadang performance. There’s not a single excuse he can think to give right now that wouldn’t make this situation worse. Ahn bites down on his bottom lip in a rare display of shame. Was it really only just moments ago that he’d been running back to the palace, exhilarated after a day free of royal rites and duties, full of purpose, and ripe with excitement for the future? 

When Prince Ahn fails to conceal his trembling lip, King Hoon finally sighs. “You have gravely disappointed me today… Jinyoung-ah.”

Prince Ahn nearly chokes. He stands absurdly still, soles of his boots rooted though the ground, rigid with shock. Abba-mama hasn’t called him by his family name in years. Not since his official coronation as Crown Prince Lee Ahn when he was still a small child.

King Hoon knows he’s struck a nerve when Prince Ahn fails to speak, or even twitch a finger in response. “You are hereby forbidden to leave the palace until you succeed the throne.” 

Prince Ahn looks up in disbelief. He’s grown a bit taller than his father in recent years, but at the moment, the Crown Prince somehow feels but two feet small. 

_You know you deserve this,_ Ahn’s conscience snarls again. 

The Crown Prince’s eyes glisten with angry tears now, both in response to his father’s ridiculous punishment and his own uncontrollable self-hate. 

King Hoon ignores his eldest son’s uncharacteristic display of childish emotion. “This is a royal command and a just punishment,” he reiterates firmly, but as King Hoon turns away, a magnanimous weariness descends upon his royal countenance. One might even argue that Jinyoung’s father already regrets the decision to treat his son to a healthy dose of tough love. Unfortunately, the subtle remorse goes entirely unseen by the Crown Prince.

Possessing total emotional control was just becoming a strong point of pride for Prince Ahn. It's a skill King Hoon favors and has praised him for mastering as of late, but tonight it feels more like a curse than anything to be proud of. Right now, he’s _Just Jinyoung_ and his heart feels raw and exposed in the wake of his father’s cold demeanor. 

As King Hoon walks away from his son and deeper into the palace, the ache of frustration burns hot in Jinyoung's face as tears begin rolling down his cheeks. This isn’t the first time he’s realized that ruling a kingdom and maintaining family relationships do not always go hand-in-hand for the great king. 

*** * * SOME DAYS LATER * * ***

The palace garden is especially beautiful on nights like this, the autumn foliage warmly lit by dozens of lanterns under a star-speckled sky, but the Crown Prince is too busy sulking to appreciate the view. Prince Ahn walks along the garden path, watching the tips of his boots. They peek out from under his white and gold evening robes with every step, and the longer he walks, the more he longs to yank them off and toss them into the pond with a satisfying kerplunk.

In the days following the incident of The Missing Crown Prince, a roaring argument had ensued between his parents just outside his quarters. It was more than a little upsetting to hear them screaming at each other, to say the very least. Even so, a small part of Ahn's heart hums with warmth in the aftermath. His mother had not been afraid to raise her voice at the king to defend her son’s honor. 

“He’s a young man now, Jeonha! The palace is all he knows, can you blame him for being curious? We can’t keep him locked up in this prison forever!” his mother had yelled.

“Is that what you really think of our home, Joongjun? Why must you always insist on comparing the palace to a prison?!” his father had yelled back.

Ahn is quite certain he’s never heard the King or Queen raise their voices in such a manner before, and never has Ahn been the cause of such a ruckus in the palace either. As shocking as it was (he’s almost certain the entire palace heard the argument) he can’t help but smile. Even whilst arguing, his parents had insisted on maintaining their royal titles of endearment for one another. Their constant declarations of “my king” and “my queen” made it all the more obvious that though they were fighting, they were _fighting with love_. 

“I’d like to find a love like that someday too,” Ahn whispers to himself before finally peering up through the nearest trees to appreciate the stars.

After enduring a night of sleepless lament, Prince Ahn wonders whether abba-mama had reacted out of astonishment rather than anger. It’s not a crime for a grown prince to leave the palace, after all. This was more an issue of abandoning his duties for a day without notifying anyone or providing a single good excuse afterwards. It would have been so easy to come up with a lie allowing him to leave the palace on some random official duty. Why hadn’t he just taken the time to fabricate a cover story? 

_Because you wanted to be irresponsible for once. You wanted to disappoint them_ , his conscience slyly reminds him. 

Ahn sighs. Was one day of excitement really worth all this trouble? In any case, his parents would likely come to some sort of compromise soon enough. In fact, the palace had been eerily quiet all day today...

“Ah. Yoon-negwan must be undergoing punishment as well,” Ahn says when he realizes the Head Eunuch has been oddly out of sight since the night of their subterfuge. “He’ll be fine. He’s tougher than he looks,” Ahn reassures himself before gazing out across the garden again. The autumn leaves remind him of the forests beyond Wang Jaegeun’s village and Ahn (no, Jinyoung) smiles for the first time in days.

Prince Ahn had never seen such a sprawling colorful autumn landscape as he did that day in Jaegeun’s village. It was breathtaking to witness the fiery red, burnt orange, and sunny yellow hues spread out along the endless mountainside with his own two eyes. He can’t even recall how long he’d simply stood there, trying to memorize every last detail.

“I’ll have to ask Yoon-negwan to procure some appropriately pigmented paints when he returns,” Ahn mumbles to himself. 

The night wears on, but Ahn refuses to retire to his chambers. Sleep deprivation is the punishment he’s chosen for himself, at least until it’s confirmed that his parents have stopped fighting. He stretches out his palm to catch a falling leaf and tenderly curls his fingers around the burgundy wisp. 

“I hope Wang Jaegeun won’t be too disappointed if I can’t visit again for a while,” he murmurs to the tiny leaf. The Crown Prince goes on to seriously consider writing a letter to explain the current state of things, but thinks better of it. Jaegeun has a whole stack of books to study right now, he’ll appreciate the alone time.

“I’ll find a way to visit again soon, don’t worry,” he whispers to the stars, hoping beyond hope that the universe will somehow pass the message on to his new friend and ally. Then out of nowhere, he finds a startling wealth of determination. Ahn absolutely must find a way out of the palace before too long. Otherwise, he’ll risk losing the hard-earned trust and promise of loyalty he’d won from Jaegeun the last time they met. 

And with that thought in mind, Crown Prince Ahn stays up until dawn, pacing the garden to plan his next escape from the palace. 

*** * * SEVERAL MONTHS LATER * * ***

“Jeoha, nooooo!” Yoon-negwan whines as he blocks Prince Ahn’s path, arms outstretched and trembling in fear. 

“If you think all this whining is cute, you are sorely mistaken,” Ahn grumbles. He finishes with the tie strings of his gat, now snugly secured under his chin. Today he’s layered up in multiple quilted tunics and trousers under a heavy silk hanbok, dyed a deep shade of midnight blue. The look is complete when he pulls on a pair of leathery winter boots and tucks a fur-lined neck wrap under his high collar. The two exit the Crown Prince’s chambers and quickly make their way through countless corridors and courtyards towards the main palace entrance. 

Yoon-negwan must jog a bit to keep up with the Crown Prince, but he refuses to give up just yet. “The King will have my head for sure if you’re caught this time. Jeoha, please! Haven’t I been a good servant?”

“The best,” Prince Ahn beams, but he doesn’t stop walking. 

“Then why are you doing this to me?! Spare me, Jeoha! I beg of you!” Yoon-negwan rubs his palms together, sincerely pleading for his life. He never wants to be on the receiving end of Jusang-Jeonha’s anger ever again.

Ahn frowns in mock discontent at Yoon-negwan’s distress. He finally stops to dramatically place his hands on the eunuch’s shoulders. 

“Yonggun-ah.”

“Yes, Jeoha?” the eunuch responds hopefully.

“Please trust me when I say your present pain will help brighten Joseon’s future.”

“I beg your pardon?” the eunuch splutters.

Prince Ahn ignores his confusion and nods solemnly. “With great change comes great sacrifice.”

Yoon-negwan sags in defeat. He does't understand what the Crown Prince means by that, but he knows Jeoha is unstoppable once he’s made up his mind. The eunuch has no choice but to believe that the normally well-behaved Crown Prince _must_ have a good reason for his unruly antics of late. 

“Now step aside,” Ahn continues. “My parents left for the Ocean Palace early this morning and we’ve already convinced Youngbin to go on without us since he was begging to travel separately anyway. There’s no one left to be angry with me for leaving the palace now.”

“But Jeoha, you spent so many months making it up to your parents with perfect behavior and outstanding achievements in court! They’ve only just forgiven you for disappearing last time!”

“Exactly! This is the perfect timing. I promised to tie up the loose ends here in Hanyang so my parents could get an early start. Now that I’ve kept my word, there’s no reason to be upset if I feel like taking a stroll through the city! They won’t suspect a thing because they won't know a thing. Especially if the weather changes in our favor. Now, tell me the plan one more time.”

“I’ll send _this_ letter if it starts snowing,” Yoon-negwan recites as he holds up an envelope in his left hand, “and _this_ letter if it _doesn’t_ ,” he finishes, holding up a second envelope in his right hand. He stuffs both letters back into his emerald green hanbok sleeves and glowers at no one in particular.

“If it snows, the key point is to wait to send the letter until…?” Ahn prompts him further.

“... the ground is thickly covered in snow,” Yoon-negwan finishes begrudgingly. The eunuch is clearly upset that he’s become an active accomplice this time around.

“Excellent!” Ahn steps around the eunuch and runs down the last stretch of stone pathway leading to the palace doors. Before the Crown Prince disappears beyond them, Yoon-negwan calls out.

“Jeoha, wait!”

“What is it?” Ahn asks impatiently as the eunuch runs to catch up to him.

Yoon-negwan reaches into the deepest part of his sleeves and pulls out a matching set of fur-lined ear warmers and mittens. “Even if it doesn’t end up snowing, the ground will surely freeze tonight. Your disguise is all good and well for blending in, but wherever you're going… you shouldn’t leave your ears and hands exposed to the winter air. They’ll freeze right off, Jeoha…”

Prince Ahn accepts the extra winter gear from the eunuch and smiles warmly. Yoon-negwan has been by his side, relentlessly prioritizing Ahn’s health and well-being at times like this when he’s too excited or distracted by princely pursuits to take care of himself properly. 

“What would I do without you, my friend?” Ahn says in thanks as he holds Yonggun’s gifts close to his heart.

With watery eyes, Yoon-negwan bashfully waves the Crown Prince out the doors and watches as the boy he helped raise since birth, now a wise and determined young man, runs off to do whatever it is he’s planning to do. 

Before Ahn turns the corner, he stops to wave at Yoon-negwan. “Remember what I said about a brighter future for Joseon!” he calls jovially and finally takes off with a dashing grin.

Yoon-negwan humors himself with a sulky nod as the Crown Prince disappears into the city. “Yes, Jeoha, but why does it feel like I’m the only one making the sacrifices?"

* * *

In the weeks after Jinyoung's visit, the harvest is completed and the entire village prepares for the change in seasons. With winter just around the corner, Jaegeun turns his attention to Jinyoung's gift. On the first night after his winter preparations are complete, Jaegeun sits before the stack of books and gingerly pulls one off the top. All he does is hold it for a long while, grateful to even brush his undeserving fingers over the lightly textured cover. He presses his thumb over the edges of the soft pages and watches in awe as lines of neat brush strokes flick past his eyes. He handles each book gently, checking their titles until he recognizes the character for war. Knowing this must be the military tactics text and his first assignment from Jinyoung, Jaegeun begins to read. 

Or he tries to. Reading _The Art of War_ becomes a serious struggle for two full days and nights before Jaegeun finally tosses the book aside in frustration. The book is way too difficult to make sense of all on his own. He refuses to read for the next couple of days, knowing the effort will be wasted if he doesn't learn some more advanced hanmun characters first. If only he could start with something simpler. 

Jaegeun lies back in bed the following night, pondering how to improve his reading skills. He’s wasted so much time already. If Jinyoung decides to show up tomorrow and finds that Jaegeun has accomplished nothing, what would he say? He gazes longingly at the books, but without any good ideas to remedy his dilemma, sleep comes to claim him. Just as he's about to drop off, something catches his attention. 

Now wide awake again, Jaegeun sits up and reaches over to pull a book out of the stack that looks different from the rest. It's very thick, and upon closer inspection it's actually multiple thinner volumes bound together with additional twine. The topmost cover is especially soft and worn and some of the edges and corners are frayed or warped by water. He opens the book to see pages and pages of clumsy script written inside and guesses it must have belonged to a young student. As he thumbs through, he notices there are simple definitions as well as pictures and diagrams drawn next to a running list of advanced hanmun characters. Excited by this helpful discovery, Jaegeun hurries to light a candle and flips back to the beginning. He ends up studying well into the night and continues with the hanmun primer every night after that for several more weeks. Only then do the meanings of the most commonly used academic characters finally start to cement in his mind. 

The first snowfall of the year comes and goes in a quick flurry, but Jaegeun misses it in his quest to master hanmun. When he exhausts the pages of the primer, he tries his hand at reading _The Art of War_ again. It's a little easier this time, now that he has the primer to reference if he gets confused. He takes his time with it over the next few nights, stopping to recite important passages out loud as he goes. 

When Jaegeun reaches the end of the book for the second time and there's still no sign of Jinyoung, he's unable to resist the rest of the books. He pulls another off the stack, a collection of teachings by Confucius. Then when it gets too cold to venture outdoors, he stays inside the warmth of his little hut, reading all day to pass the time. The more he reads, the easier it becomes, like he always had the skill but somehow forgot for a long time. This would probably seem strange to him if he had the time to worry, but Jaegeun is too happily occupied, reading to his heart's content like he always knew how. 

Before long, Jaegeun devours a thick volume about philosophy and ethics. Then he makes his way through a series of texts describing the royal history of Joseon and the monarchy. Jaegeun even discovers a book of poems at the bottom of the stack. It's a very thin volume filled with beautifully simple, but powerful illustrations to accompany each entry. He decides to hold off on reading this one until a later date, when he can savor it at leisure. 

Jaegeun never thought reading would be so addicting, but it's the knowledge he craves more than the actual act of reading itself. He wonders if maybe there isn't really a difference between the two. In any case, it's making the long winter pass unbelievably quickly. 

One morning, Jaegeun wakes up shivering from the cold seeping up through the floor and chilling him through the blankets. There's a certain hush about the room that gives him pause. Pulling the covers around himself, he sits up and pushes the door open to look outside. 

_It's snowing._

The madang beyond his porch is already covered in a fluffy dusting of flakes. Jaegeun smiles and hurries to don the thickest clothing he owns (several layers of quilted clothing, including a hat with ear flaps and cotton-stuffed mittens, socks, and boots) before going out to start up a new fire in the furnace. Jaegeun bustles about to finish his tasks out in the wintry air, but he keeps stopping to marvel at the gigantic snowflakes floating down around him. He loves snowfalls like this, when there isn't a trace of wind to disturb the falling flakes.

 _Today would be a great day to read the book of poems,_ he thinks elatedly.

By the time the furnace is blazing and his portable hwaro is full of hot coals and ash, every outdoor surface is completely covered in a continuous layer of thickening white. Jaegeun rearranges the few pieces of furniture he owns to make room for the hwaro, then goes back out to cook himself a meal. When he's done and back inside, the floor is toasty, the hwaro is keeping the air inside warm, and his hands are laden with hot bowls of soup and rice. He cracks open the door just enough to watch the snow as he eats to warm up. 

Feeling too sleepy to read once full, Jaegeun lies down in front of the door with a pillow, positioning himself to keep the thin view of snowfall at eye level. He's not sure how long he stays there on the warm ondol floor, watching the snow as he thinks about the books and his new knowledge. Eventually he curls up between his blankets, committing to a nap and barely noticing that the snow has already piled up significantly outside. Jaegeun’s sleepy thoughts finally wander to Jinyoung's continued absence. The crazy naeuri must have forgotten all about him and their plan to infiltrate the palace. 

"At least he gave me plenty of books to read..." Jaegeun murmurs. 

Joseon winters may be miserably cold, but he does love the sound of boots crunching through the snow. Jaegeun's eyes snap back open when he registers the thought. _Boots crunching through the snow?_ He stills and listens harder. 

_Crunch, crunch, crunch._

Jaegeun sits up and pushes his door wide open. A figure stands in the snow just outside his low front gate, swaddled in winter clothing and shaking with cold. The visitor raises a bundled arm in greeting and Jaegeun laughs. The tiger always appears when you speak of him.

"Jinyoung-AH!" 

Jaegeun shouts the last informal syllable and Ahn laughs, a quiet huff that expels a large white cloud into the wintry air. He must have remembered Ahn’s request to drop the honorifics at the last second. Ahn pulls his arms tighter around himself as he waits politely at Jaegeun’s front gate. 

_I’m not Prince Ahn. Right now I’m Jinyoung, and I’m here to see my friend._

Jaegeun scrambles out of his hut and hastily pulls on his tightly woven straw hwa boots. Jinyoung's teeth are chattering so hard Jaegeun can hear it all the way across the madang.

"Hold on, I'm coming!" 

Jinyoung nods and continues to wait patiently, dying to stand next to the crackling fire in Jaegeun’s furnace.

Meanwhile, Jaegeun grabs a bowl fashioned from half of a hallowed dried gourd and scampers across the yard through knee-deep snow. The snow level is so high, he figures he'll have to dig out the gate. When he gets there though, it becomes apparent that it would be easier for Jinyoung to climb over the gate instead. 

"Come on," Jaegeun says as he tosses the gourd aside and holds both hands out. 

Jinyoung reaches to grab hold of Jaegeun's hands and clumsily climbs over the gate. Then Jaegeun pulls him through the snow until they reach his hut and topple over onto the porch. 

"H-Hi--" Jinyoung's shivery greeting begins. 

"What were you thinking, walking all the way from Hanyang in the middle of a blizzard?" Jaegeun interrupts, ignoring the formalities. 

"My br-brother t-took the last h-horse," Jinyoung explains through his chattering teeth. “Started sn-snowing halfw-way.”

Jaegeun's expression is pinched with concern at the sight of Jinyoung's face, red and chafed from the cold. "You'll get sick if we don't warm you up soon," he says, pressing his hands against Jinyoung's freezing cheeks.

Jinyoung blinks, surprised by the sudden touch. Jaegeun’s hands are warm and there’s a certain familiarity denoted in his tone that catches Jinyoung off guard. 

A hiss of disapproval whistles between Jaegeun's teeth as he takes in all of Jinyoung's snow-covered clothing. He unties and snatches Jinyoung's gat and ear warmers away, pulls the dry ear-flapped hat off his own head, and smashes it on Jinyoung to help warm him up faster. He hurries to peel off Jinyoung's damp mittens and snow-crusted outer garments. Once he's successfully pulled off Jinyoung's soggy boots and his top layer of socks soaked through with melted snow, he pushes Jinyoung inside his hut and out of the cold.

The disrobing of Jinyoung’s outer garments happens faster than he can process or protest. Jinyoung scarcely feels the need to complain though. He’s very glad to be rid of the cold clothing anyway. 

Jaegeun seats the human icicle down by the hwaro and wraps him up in a blanket that's been warming on the heated ondol floor since early this morning. 

"Th-thank you," Jinyoung shudders, but Jaegeun's already dashing back outside on a mission. 

Jaegeun places the leftover pots of soup and rice on the fire and starts a pot of barley tea next to it, for good measure. As everything comes to a boil, he runs over to the cellar to pull out a treat he's been saving for Jinyoung's return.

Jinyoung peeks over the edge of the blanket to watch as Jaegeun turns the hwaro into a makeshift oven and tucks the precious sweet potatoes inside to broil. He then darts back outside to hang a clothes line across one side of the porch so Jinyoung's snow-damp clothes can hang to dry. Jaegeun disappears again, but this time he returns with steaming bowls of soup and rice and a small pot of tea all balanced on a tray. He sets it down in front of Jinyoung, brushing the snow off himself before entering and shutting the doors tight against the cold.

"Eat," Jaegeun says and gently pushes a wooden spoon into Jinyoung's mouth (he's still bundled up to his neck in a blanket after all). 

Jinyoung laughs around the spoon and nods before wiggling out of the blanket to free his arms. 

Jaegeun takes a seat on the other side of the hwaro, watching closely as Jinyoung hunches over to blow on a spoonful of piping hot soup. At least his teeth aren't chattering anymore. "You'll warm up in no time with hot food in your belly. There's more if it's not enough," he says as he pours himself a cup of tea. "Wait, it's probably still too hot," he thinks aloud and reaches over to stop Jinyoung from taking a bite. Jaegeun pushes his tea cup into Jinyoung's hands instead, watching as his fingers curl around the cup to absorb the heat. 

"Thank you," Jinyoung says again, his voice soft but steady this time. He takes a small sip of tea and peers over the rim of the cup at this still awkward display of closeness (at least for Jinyoung). 

"No need to thank me, any decent person would have done the same." Jaegeun scratches his shoulder and decides to pour a second cup of tea to busy himself. 

"Have you been reading the books?" Jinyoung asks to change the subject. He witnesses a light igniting in Jaegeun’s eyes and smiles. 

"Yes, I'm almost finished reading the whole stack. What took you so long to come back?" 

Jinyoung nods apologetically. "I have to plan my visits carefully..." he replies vaguely before setting his tea down to try the soup again. 

Jaegeun resists the urge to question him further so Jinyoung can eat. He guesses that Jinyoung is the type to only give as much information as needed at the exact time it's needed. 

Sensing the curiosity in Jaegeun's silence, Jinyoung stops mid-bite to look at him. "I just like to take extra precautions. And I knew you'd be okay studying on your own for awhile." Jinyoung grins before returning to his soup. 

"I could use some help from a practiced scholar though," Jaegeun suggests hopefully. 

Jinyoung grins and replies in a fashion similar to something Jaegeun said the last time he was here.

"All right, where should we start?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you to anyone who is still reading 💚 I didn't mean to take such a long hiatus, but 2020 has been rough. Now that things are feeling stable and in light of the news about GOT7 leaving jype, I'm here and determined to finish this, but it'll probably take a while because I have a lot planned! Little spoiler: Chapter 5 title is The Orphan and The Poet 😈 
> 
> P.S. No more mini glossaries of Korean words. Please focus on the feeling of being immersed in Joseon times more than definitions. I'll keep doing my best to make sure there are enough context clues to prevent confusion! Feel free to let me know how I'm doing (or how you're doing?) <333


	5. The Orphan and The Poet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaegeun makes an interesting discovery about Jinyoung as they spend time together during a blizzard. When the rice wine starts flowing, the sparks get a-going, and Jinyoung decides to tell the truth.

The snow continues to fall outside Jaegeun’s hut as he and Jinyoung sit at a small floor table to review the books. As time goes on, Jinyoung tries harder and harder to stump his student, but Jaegeun easily answers every question from memory. He even interrupts Jinyoung’s incessant quizzing quite frequently to ask his own detailed questions, simply to appease his own personal inquiries. Eventually this aggravates Jinyoung to the point of slapping the book shut and shoving it into Jaegeun's hands instead. Aside from fine-tuning Jaegeun’s interpretation of some of the more obscure hanmun characters, there's not much left to test him on. 

“Do you realize the sheer volume of material you’ve apparently memorized in just three month’s time?” Jinyoung asks, his tone suddenly formal. 

“There’s not much to do around here during the winter,” Jaegeun shrugs with a poorly hidden smirk. He kind of likes how overly polite Jinyoung becomes when he’s truly annoyed. 

Jinyoung’s eyebrow quirks just a smidge in self awareness. His jealousy is showing. With a calming breath, he evens out his tone. “Even so! This is… pretty incredible. You should be proud of yourself for learning so much in such a short amount of time.”

Jaegeun responds with an appropriately proud grin. “Wah, that sounds like a genuine compliment.”

“That’s because it is,” Jinyoung scoffs, but he doesn't stay annoyed for long. He's soon mirroring Jaegeun's infectious smile and they share an unexpected moment of tenderness. Jinyoung knew Wang Jaegeun was going to be a hidden gem, but discovering his exceptional academic aptitude is like opening an unexpected gift from fate. 

Jaegeun is distracted when he spots the corners of Jinyoung’s eyes crinkling up again (his new favorite thing). After a quick mental shake to restore his composure, he watches as Jinyoung sits back against the wall. He crosses his arms and cheekily beckons Jaegeun to continue studying. “Don’t mind me. You’re obviously perfectly capable without my help,” he says with a chuckle.

After an hour or so of reciting passages on his own, Jaegeun hears the familiar sounds of deep breathing. When he looks up from his book, he's not surprised to find that Jinyoung has fallen asleep. The yangban’s head lists off to one side and the book he was holding slips into his lap.

“The walk must have tired him out,” Jaegeun muses as he rises to help Jinyoung into a more comfortable position. He grabs a pillow to gently lay the sleeping beauty down onto the warm floor and covers him with the blanket.

Jaegeun sits cross-legged before his slumbering guest and scratches at the nape of his neck, more than a little perplexed. Relaxed and vulnerable like this, Jinyoung looks as young and carefree as he should. _What made you so cold and cautious?_ Jaegeun ponders as his gaze wanders along the curve of Jinyoung’s lips. _Why are you so worried about the future of Joseon? _ His eyes flick up to appreciate Jinyoung's shapely brows, the same raven shade as his long lashes, and--

Jaegeun shakes his head to put a stop to his mental drifting. He swears at the hwaro, suddenly feeling a little too warm in the cheeks and desperate for a breath of fresh air. With one last fearful look at ~~the beautiful angel~~ Jinyoung, Jaegeun awkwardly stands and tugs at his collar until he’s yanking the quilted jacket off entirely. He fishes the book of poems out of the left pocket and viciously drops the offending garment onto the floor. In a huff (for some unknown reason), Jaegeun stomps through the rice paper-paneled door and out into the blessedly crisp air. The cold stings his burning cheeks and refreshes his lungs with every deep breath. Once he’s substantially cooled off, Jaegeun plonks down against one of the porch posts, ready to crack open the much anticipated book of poems.

Poetry turns out to be a different sort of reading all together. The words and their meanings are somehow simple and complex at the same time, and a single line requires many read-throughs before Jaegeun can begin to make sense of its deeper meaning. Yet somehow, this isn’t frustrating to him at all. It's not long before he finds himself relaxing down onto the porch, slowly flipping through the pages and thoroughly enjoying himself. There’s something uniquely entertaining about gleaning all the different ways each line of a poem can be interpreted, and Jaegeun thinks he might actually like this book more than any of the others he’s read so far. The little book contains short, one-page poems, mostly about nature and love. There’s a poem about birds and spring flowers and another that describes an unrequited love between the ocean and the moon. After reading one about the first snowfall, Jaegeun pauses to turn and watch the snowfall beyond the porch. He finds a single flake to focus on and follows its floating descent until it makes a satisfying landing upon the thick bed of white already blanketing the ground. _Reading poetry isn’t about acquiring new knowledge_ , Jaegeun realizes. _It’s about experiencing what you already know in a different way and appreciating it all over again._

As Jaegeun idly watches the snow, a breeze picks up and knocks something out of Jinyoung’s hanbok where it still hangs from the clothesline to dry. Jaegeun sits up to get a better look and discovers a folded piece of paper. Without a second thought, he picks it up and carefully unfolds it ([view poem](https://imgur.com/gallery/DU7uZNs)).

푸른 밤 

너에게로 가지 않으려고 미친 듯 걸었던

그 무수한 길도

실은 네게로 향한 것이었다

까마득한 밤길을 혼자 걸어갈 때에도

내 응시에 날아간 별은

네 머리 위에서 반짝였을 것이다

사랑에서 치욕으로

다시 치욕에서 사랑으로

하루에도 몇 번씩 네게로 드리웠던 두레박

그러나 매양 퍼올린 것은

수만 갈래의 길이었을 따름이다*

_(see end of chapter notes)_

“Hmm,” Jaegeun frowns as he stares at the paper. “It’s written in hangeul.” He looks up through the open door of his hut. Jinyoung is still there inside, sleeping soundly and completely unaware of Jaegeun’s discovery. _This looks like a poem. Did Jinyoung write it himself?_

Puzzled by the hangeul he doesn’t know how to read (yet), Jaegeun examines the artistry of the neat brushstrokes instead. He holds the hangeul paper and the hanmun book side by side, but it’s difficult to compare the two languages in any way other than by their differences. Jaegeun continues to flip through the book, not entirely sure what he’s looking for. When he reaches the end, he’s surprised to find that the last page is written in hangeul as well. Excited by this developing mystery, he compares the two. He’s not much of a scholar (yet), but to Jaegeun’s eyes, it’s an undoubtable match. His eyes grow wide and sly as Jaegeun fits the pieces together in his mind. The book of poems came from Jinyoung’s stack of books, the paper came from Jinyoung’s clothing, and the hangeul handwriting of both is nearly identical in size, shape, and artistic flair. The evidence is piling up. _Could Jinyoung really be the author of all these poems?_ Jaegeun nearly squeals at this lovely new discovery. Against his better judgement, he tucks the piece of paper into his sleeve. He'll have to inspect it in secret later. First, Jaegeun must learn how to read hangeul (immediately).

* * *

Jinyoung stirs from slumber as soon as his nose detects a wonderful smell. He sniffs multiple times to try and place it before finally opening his eyes out of sheer curiosity. With a glorious stretch, Jinyoung feels revived and refreshed. _When did I lie down?_ he wonders as he sits up to rub wakefulness back into his face. Jaegeun’s blanket falls off his shoulder and he spots Jaegeun’s pillow as well, now indented where his own head had been resting. Jinyoung grins tenderly to himself, realizing Jaegeun must have wanted him to nap more comfortably. When Jinyoung looks out the open door, all he can do is stare at the dazzling scene before him. Jaegeun sits on the porch, his limbs all exquisite lines arranged at perfect angles as he casually reclines back on one elbow. Several strands of his thick brown hair have fallen loose to gracefully frame the sides of his face. Jinyoung blinks repeatedly against the light reflecting off the snow in the background as it glints and sparkles around Jaegeun’s outline. Just when Jinyoung is halfway convinced he’s still dreaming, he follows Jaegeun’s gaze and sees the book in his hand.

Without making a single sound, Jinyoung rises and steps out of the hut with unbelievable speed to snatch the book of poems (basically his JOURNAL) out of Jaegeun's hand, but Jaegeun is even quicker to notice and successfully dodges. If Jinyoung wasn’t so embarrassed, he’d probably be impressed.

Meanwhile, Jaegeun rolls away and kneels into a crouch, poised and ready for Jinyoung’s next move. After a reaction like this, Jaegeun knows it must be true. Jinyoung is definitely the poet.

Jinyoung swipes for the book again, but Jaegeun turns on his heel and rises to side-step Jinyoung with an annoying catlike grace. They face each other at the ready, as though preparing for a sparring session.

“Are you trained in martial arts?” Jinyoung asks, eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“Maybe a little,” Jaegeun answers nonchalantly.

Jinyoung’s arm shoots out to make another grab for the poems, but Jaegeun twists elegantly away. "But it’s probably more accurate to say that I’m trained in the art of dance," Jaegeun adds with a taunting smirk.

When Jinyoung lunges unexpectedly, Jaegeun nearly goes sprawling into the snow in order to evade him. At the last second, Jaegeun catches Jinyoung's shoulder, righting himself and somehow spinning Jinyoung away from the book in the same motion. Caught off guard and growing dizzy from all the twirling, Jinyoung clumsily totters along the edge of the porch. Jaegeun slides forward to catch him by the waist, dipping him away from the edge to prevent Jinyoung from tumbling into the snow.

“Personally, I prefer to be called an _entertainer_ ,” Jaegeun teases as he looks down at the handsome yangban in his arms. 

Jaegeun isn’t sure what causes the intense blush to rise in Jinyoung’s cheeks as they stare into each other's eyes, but his entire flustered face is a splendid sight to behold right now. 

“Please give it back,” Jinyoung asks stiffly.

“Why?”

“Because it belongs to me.”

“But you gave it to me. With the other books,” Jaegeun continues to tease. 

“I didn’t mean to give you _that_ one,” Jinyoung explains as he tries to struggle out of Jaegeun’s arms.

Instead of bringing him back to standing, Jaegeun bends further at the waist and swiftly kneels. The motion sends Jinyoung sliding all the way down to lie flat on the porch and Jaegeun catches his head to cushion the impact. He hovers over Jinyoung, their noses now inches apart. 

“Will you teach me how to read hangeul?” Jaegeun asks softly. He's still trying to figure out exactly how and why he's on top of Jinyoung like this (it happened so fast), but for now he decides to focus on distracting the amature poet from his own embarrassment.

Jinyoung blinks in confusion. “You don’t know hangeul?” he asks stupidly (Jaegeun’s face is really much too close for him too think of a wittier remark).

“Cheonmin aren’t allowed to read. In any language,” Jaegeun quietly reminds him. 

“Right…” Jinyoung says, but he’s feeling a little lost in the depths of Jaegeun’s irises right now (so brown and glossy in this light).

“So, will you?” Jaegeun prompts.

“Yes, of course. You’ll pick it up in no time,” Jinyoung murmurs (still confused about this warm, fuzzy feeling).

Just as fast as they slid to the floor, Jaegeun pulls away to whoop in victory. He ducks back into his hut and begins rearranging the space for another study session.

Suddenly cold in Jaegeun's absence and equally confused by his brisk retreat, Jinyoung stares up from the porch in a daze. _What just happened…?_

“Come on, teach me!” Jaegeun hollers when Jinyoung fails to rise from his prone position.

A weak laugh escapes from Jinyoung’s mouth in disbelief. Wang Jaegeun is strangely, impossibly... charming. 

“All right, I’m coming!”

* * *

The sun above Jaegeun's village is so lost behind a thick mass of clouds that the only indication of the day’s end is a gradual darkening of the sky. As day transitions to night, Jinyoung makes up his mind.

"Are you sure?" Jaegeun asks as he lights a lantern against the oncoming darkness.

"Yes. The sun is about to set and I don't have a horse. It would be pointless to try and leave under these conditions. And look, the snow is picking up again," Jinyoung explains as he tries to conceal a smile. "I'm not walking all the way to Hanyang through another blizzard. In the dark."

Jaegeun grins. "Good. Because the gogumas are almost done!" 

By the time they start snacking on the golden sweet potatoes, Jaegeun is well on his way to memorizing the entire hangeul alphabet.

"This is a lot easier than I expected," Jaegeun says through a mouthful of deliciously sticky goguma. 

"That's because hangeul is phonetic. There are only a fraction of characters to memorize as compared to hanmun," Jinyoung points out. He takes a zealous bite of steaming goguma and promptly chokes on it. "Water?" he croaks.

Jaegeun immediately stands to fetch him some, but has a better idea. "Actually, do you like makgeolli?"

Unfortunately, Jinyoung is still struggling with the gooey mass lodged in his throat and can't provide a coherent answer. Jaegeun takes this as a yes and retrieves a sizeable clay pot from a corner of the room. Jinyoung watches impatiently, pounding on his chest (to no avail). Jaegeun lifts the lid off the pot and hurries to drain his tea cup, which he then uses to dip into the pot of sweet milky rice wine. Once filled, he hands the cup over to Jinyoung, who then throws it back in a single gulp. 

Jaegeun's eyes widen with distaste. "What do you think this is? Well water?!"

After a beat of shocked silence, Jinyoung throws his head back and bursts into a hearty laugh. Obviously, the wine did it's job to help push the glob of goguma down into his stomach where it belongs.

"Yah! Why are you laughing? I used the last of my white rice to ferment this makgeolli!" Jaegeun wails. "How dare you drink something so precious in one go like that?" he scolds with a ferocious pout, but turns into a smile when he notices something amazing occurring before his eyes. Jinyoung is… laughing. Genuinely. A true fit of deep-bellied chortles!

Jaegeun admires the beautiful giggling man for a long delirious moment. "Is it really that funny?" he finally asks.

When Jinyoung calms down enough to catch his breath, he nods. "I did ask for water, you know. It's not my fault you got excited about your fine wine and forgot I was choking."

Jaegeun rolls his eyes and then smirks when a thought occurs to him. "Be honest though. This is the first time you've ever laughed so hard, isn't it?"

Jinyoung accepts this as a challenge and refuses to give in so easily. He recollects his best emotionless expression and shrugs noncommittally.

Unfortunately, it's not enough to convince Jaegeun. "It _was_!" he cackles in triumph. Before Jinyoung can think of a response, Jaegeun leans into his personal space. “You can thank me later…" he whispers with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Jinyoung sucks in a sharp breath of surprise and scrunches up his face, but it doesn't do much to obscure the peculiar emotion already blooming all over it. He stares into Jaegeun's warm brown eyes, caught somewhere between feeling intensely annoyed and extremely tickled. 

When Jaegeun doesn't back away, Jinyoung responds in kind. "I'd like another please," he purrs, arrogantly holding up the empty tea cup for a refill. 

The quiet challenge in Jinyoung’s voice catches Jaegeun’s interest. He takes the cup from Jinyoung and reaches over to pick his original cup up off the table as well. Jaegeun backs away to make a show of dipping both into his precious pot of makgeolli. 

“Tonight! We drink until we die!” he bellows.

* * *

"Jinmyoung-AH! I'm readimng!" Jaegeun slurs as he sways to his feet, barely keeping a hold of the book of poems.

Jinyoung squints up at Jaegeun with a boozy smile, choosing to remain seated at the floor table. "Told you so in no time," he mumbles with a tiny hiccup.

Jaegeun reads the entire hangeul poem at the end of the book, slowly but accurately enough considering the large amount of rice wine he's consumed. The two had matched each other cup for cup as they continued to drill Jaegeun’s rapidly progressing reading skills. By the time Jaegeun got the hang of it, the makgeolli pot was already empty. When he finishes reading without needing any help, Jinyoung claps in celebration. The alcohol has helped him completely forget the embarrassment of accidentally giving Jaegeun his secret book of poems. 

"You read booootifully," Jinyoung croons with an enthusiastic nod, but then immediately closes his eyes in regret. All the head bobbing is making him feel sick.

"Oh yeah? How about this one then?" Jaegeun giggles as he whips the folded poem out of his sleeve and shakes it out for another dramatic reading. Jinyoung gives another tiny nod, completely clueless (his eyes are still closed lest he lose the entire contents of his stomach). 

Jaegeun stares at the poem through bleary eyes. With a deep breath and a sobering slap to each cheek, he begins to read in his best entertainer's voice.

_Bluish Night_

_The countless roads I’ve walked_

_I've done so with ardor to stay away from you_

_but to you all led me true_

_And even on the darkest roads alone_

_the stars that flee my gaze, I know_

_above your head must be shining_

_My sighs and the flowers of my breath_

_toward you must have tilted my swaying body_

_From love to shame_

_and back from shame to love_

_so many times into your well I’ve casted_

_But each time I drew up only to find_

_nothing but branching roads, tens of thousands**_

_(see end of chapter notes)_

Jinyoung has never sobered up so fast. He almost didn’t recognize his own writing through the boozy haze, but by the time Jaegeun finishes reading his most recent poem, he is utterly mortified. In the following silence, he sits still as stone, reddening even further beyond his existing alcohol-induced flush. With eyes squeezed tight against the embarrassment, Jinyoung waits for Jaegeun's reaction. 

A pair of warm hands cups Jinyoung's face and he startles. When he opens his eyes, Jaegeun is there… glassy-eyed and rosy-cheeked… quietly… softly… waiting and watching...

"You wrote this."

Jinyoung blinks once in confirmation. 

"You wrote all of them," Jaegeun continues. 

Jinyoung blinks again, uncertain where his voice has gone.

"YOUR POEMS ARE SO GOOD, JINYOUNG-AH!" Jaegeun gushes in a shrill, shrieking voice that could easily move mountains. He gently smooshes Jinyoung's cheeks, swaying back and forth while making more ridiculous high-pitched sounds of adoration.

Another burst of giggles would have been Jinyoung's usual reaction (he's truly flattered by Jaegeun's praises, in fact). Unfortunately, there's currently an inordinate amount of makgeolli in his system and it's making it extremely difficult to giggle or sway without consequence. The alcohol churns violently in his belly, threatening to spew at even the smallest of movements. After a particularly extravagant shimmy under Jaegeun's hands, Jinyoung throws him aside as he stands, sending the newly minted poetry enthusiast careening into a far corner of the room. Panicking that he might not make it, Jinyoung rushes out the door with his hands clamped firmly over his mouth. In the end, he successfully empties his stomach over the far edge of Jaegeun’s porch in one rather graceful hurl. 

Back inside the hut, Jaegeun rolls over onto his side to get comfortable and promptly falls into a deep drunken sleep. When Jinyoung returns, exhausted but feeling much better, Jaegeun is already completely passed out. Jinyoung slumps down to the floor, curling up under a jacket he finds there, and follows suit within seconds. 

In the middle of the night, Jaegeun is abruptly roused from a dead sleep. He struggles to sit up, still a little residually drunk but rapidly sobering into a foul mood at the inevitable hangover looming on his horizon. Then a violent shiver races up his spine. The room has grown cold enough to see his breath. He cracks open the door and balks at the madang, now piled so high with snow that it's starting to spill onto the porch. The panic rises in Jaegeun’s throat and he turns to immediately discover the source of his sleep disruption. Jinyoung had been curled up against his back, shaking from head to toe at the sudden drop in temperature. Jaegeun’s panic is instantly amplified by concern for Jinyoung's well-being as he inspects the room. The lantern is still lit in the far corner, but the hwaro’s embers are completely burnt out. When he presses his hand to the floor, it feels like a sheet of ice. Jaegeun swears as he jumps to his feet. _ Jenjang. The furnace is out. _

Swiftly moving about to clean up the makgeolli aftermath, Jaegeun pushes the mess out onto the porch to make space for his bedding blankets. He brings Jinyoung’s practically frozen clothes inside and once the bed is neatly made, he turns again to find Jinyoung sitting upright, woken up by all the bustling about. He’s still shivering, nearly blue with cold, and frowning through what Jageun guesses must be a post-alcohol headache. Jinyoung groans, voice scratchy from dehydration as he strains his fingers against his temples in agony.

Jaegeun deliberates what to do next. Warming Jinyoung up is the most immediate concern, but if it’s been snowing all night, the furnace is probably buried under a heap of snow by now. It could be a long time before the room is warm again. Thinking fast, Jaegeun transfers a flame from the lantern to the hwaro, gingerly coaxing the coals to burn into hot embers again. It takes a dreadfully long time to succeed, but once he does, Jaegeun makes another snap decision.

“Jinyoung-ah, come here." He pulls back the comforter and sits down in the middle of the square of thick bedding. What with all the cleaning and the rush of fear after nearly freezing to death in their sleep, his body should be warm enough to make this work.

When Jinyoung hesitates, Jaegeun takes hold of his wrist. With a gentle tug, he seats the human icicle, back to chest between his legs and wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s shivering torso. Then he pulls the comforter around them both, effectively surrounding Jinyoung in his own body heat. Jinyoung tenses at first, surprised by the unexpected closeness. Even so, Jaegeun holds him tight for survival’s sake, willing the little heat between them to grow. As warmth begins seeping into his body, Jinyoung finally relaxes with relief and turns to press his chilled face against Jaegeun’s neck. 

“Yah, that’s cold!” Jaegeun yelps, but he doesn’t back away. The guilt is starting to weigh on his conscience now. _I should have checked on the fire before we started drinking._ He sighs and tightens his embrace, glad that at least the shivering has stopped.

After several moments pass in complete silence, Jaegeun begins to worry. “Jinyoung-ah? You can’t fall asleep until you’re warmed up. Come on, talk to me.”

“Mmm?” Jinyoung murmurs sleepily. 

Jaegeun finds Jinyoung’s ice-cold hands under the blanket and folds them into his grip, urging the heat to travel faster.

“You’re very good at this,” Jinyoung mumbles vaguely.

Guessing he must be talking about surviving through a blizzard, Jaegeun nods. “Yeah, Bongjoon and I learned how to get through winters the hard way. He was never very good with the cold either.” 

Another beat of silence stretches between them as Jaegeun misses his brother. Just when he worries that Jinyoung has fallen asleep again, the poet speaks up.

“How are you so warm?” he asks sleepily.

Glad to be hearing his coherent voice again, Jaegeun smiles and tucks his chin over Jinyoung's shoulder. “I don’t know. I’ve always run hot.”

“Interesting. I’ve always run cold.”

“Yeah, I could have easily guessed that. How did you manage to survive so many Hanyang winters?”

Jinyoung chuckles. “I’m not originally from Hanyang, actually. I grew up further south, near the ocean. My family spends winters at the Ocean Palace because it doesn’t get as cold there. Some years, it doesn’t even snow. I guess I never got used to the change in climate.” 

Jaegeun is so relieved to hear the clarity return to Jinyoung’s voice that he doesn’t think much about the strangeness of a yangban growing up in a palace outside of Hanyang. _Maybe Jinyoung is confused…_ “If it doesn’t get very cold near the ocean during the winter, then I bet it’s disgustingly hot and humid there during the summer,” he babbles to keep the conversation going. “Hanyang summers are torturous for people like me. Must be even worse in your hometown.”

“Actually, no. The ocean breeze keeps it cool there during the summer. It stays quite comfortable all year round,” Jinyoung explains happily.

 _At least talking about his hometown is cheering him up,_ Jaegeun thinks. “Is that so? I’ve never been anywhere but Hanyang and this village, so I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“What about The Middle Empire?” Jinyoung asks without much thought.

Jaegeun bristles. “What about it?”

“You don’t… remember? Anything before you came to Joseon?”

Jaegeun begins massaging more heat into Jinyoung’s freezing fingers. This conversation is taking a bleak turn. “No. I don’t remember anything about The Middle Empire,” he finally replies in a small voice.

Jinyoung senses Jaegeun’s discomfort, but he's curious. “What about… your family?” he asks carefully.

Jaegeun shakes his head. “My parents left me here when I was too young to remember any of it.”

Jinyoung pulls his hands away and pivots around to look Jaegeun squarely in the face. The blanket falls in a bunch on the floor around them, but neither are very concerned about it at the moment.

“So you’ve been living on your own in a foreign country since you were a child?” Jinyoung asks incredulously and sadly.

“The Namsadang hyungs raised me…” Jaegeun mumbles as he looks down at his empty hands.

Jinyoung is the one to fold Jaegeun’s hands between his own this time. Jaegeun lifts his head to meet Jinyoung's gaze, but can’t think of anything else to say.

“It must have been so hard for you,” Jinyoung whispers.

Jaegeun has half a mind to shrug this whole conversation off with a cheery dismissal, but he sees the wet shine in Jinyoung’s eyes and falters. “Yeah, but not just because I'm a Middle Empire orphan. It's a hard life for _all_ cheonmin entertainers. People cheer for your performance one moment and then treat you like garbage the next.” Jaegeun bows his head to stare at the lines of his palms. “I’ve been treated like this my entire life. I entertain for a living and somehow that’s considered unclean, even though I work to make people happy. Isn’t that important too?" Jaegeun shakes his head in disgust. “I have no parents, no family, no money, no inheritance, no social status... but I know that my mind, my work, and my opinions are just as valuable as anyone else’s, even if it’s a little different. I don’t have any tolerance for people who think it’s okay to treat someone like trash just because they have less materially, or lead a life that isn’t considered normal. Cheonmin are humans too,” Jaegeun finishes gruffly. He’s not sure when his pulse started racing so fast. 

Jinyoung returns to his original position, sitting with his back to Jaegeun’s chest. He nods thoughtfully as Jaegeun wraps the blanket around them again. “You’re right, about all of it. And I was right to recruit you."

Jaegeun doesn’t know how to respond, so he focuses on keeping Jinyoung warm. He hadn’t planned on dumping his thoughts out like this, but now that he has, it feels as though a small load has been lifted from his shoulders. They fall into a comfortable silence and when the heat eventually rises all the way to Jinyoung’s cheeks, Jaegeun feels safe leaving him alone. 

“I have to go dig out the furnace and get the fire going again,” Jaegeun explains as he extracts himself from Jinyoung and the blankets. 

“I can help,” Jinyoung begins before he's interrupted.

“No, you’ll get too cold within minutes and then I’ll have to spend even more time warming you up again.” Jaegeun retrieves Jinyoung’s ear warmers and neck wrap and hands them over. “Put these on and stay under the blanket. The hwaro will have to make do, for now.” 

Jinyoung adds the winter gear to his person as Jaegeun dons all the extra clothing he can find in preparation for the next phase of blizzard survival. Jinyoung retreats back under the blanket and watches on, torn between guilt and gratitude as Jaegeun does a few exercises to warm up. 

Jaegeun’s heart softens when he catches a rare display of mixed emotions on Jinyoung’s face. “Don’t worry, I do this every winter. I’m used to it. I’ll get it done fast and we’ll be sleeping in an oven in no time,” he reassures with a confident grin. 

Jinyoung smiles somewhat sadly as he watches Jaegeun duck back out into the blizzard. If he didn’t already feel proud of his excellent judge of character the first time he met Jaegeun, this precise moment would have definitely done it. _Jaegeun continues to prove himself to be an exceptional candidate… but all I’ve done is tell him half truths and conceal the important details of my plan to make Joseon a better place for my people. Why is he still going through all this trouble to take care of me and protect me when he knows so little about me? _

The amalgam of guilt and gratitude boils up through Jinyoung’s chest and settles in a knot at the back of his throat. It’s an uncomfortable lump he knows won’t go away until Jaegeun knows the whole truth. 

_It’s time to tell him who I am..._

* * *

Jaegeun returns from digging out a path from the porch to the furnace, drenched in a mixture of melted snow and sweat. He hasn’t even started a fire yet, but his hands and feet are so numb from the cold that he needs to take a break to warm up. Luckily, Jinyoung has been keeping the hwaro burning and even had the foresight to locate clean linens for Jaegeun to dry off with.

This time, it’s Jaegeun’s turn to be disrobed of his snow-covered outer layers. Jinyoung helps him peel off the damp clothing and lays them out to dry near the hwaro before pulling Jaegeun under the blankets and into his lap. He’s cross-legged, so Jaegeun slips sideways when he lands, resulting in one of Jinyoung’s arms to take hold of Jaegeun's knees while the other curls around the small of his back. Too exhausted to worry about anything else, Jaegeun snuggles against Jinyoung's broad chest and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he’s alone under the covers and the room is much warmer than before. Jaegeun hurries outside to investigate. The logs protected under the porch have been dug out, so he follows the path leading to the furnace. There he finds Jinyoung, bundled up and calmly stoking a blazing fire. Deeply touched, Jaegeun melts some snow for drinking water and stays by Jinyoung's side until the fire burns down to a manageable size. Once he confirms there are enough embers to last most of the night, Jaegeun fetches some salt and a lumpy chunk of soap. They melt more water to clean their teeth and wash their faces before finally returning to his hut for some much needed sleep.

Now that the ondol is nice and warm again, Jaegeun begins stripping down to his last layers. His trousers stay on, but he removes his tunic to confidently bare his chest. He side-eyes Jinyoung, who blushes intensely and averts his gaze. 

“This is how I always sleep. Make sure to stay on your side of the bed if you’re uncomfortable with it,” Jaegeun says with a shrug. 

Jinyoung nods without a word and they settle in under the covers. Luckily, the warmth of the floor and their collective exhaustion leaves little time for awkwardness. They instantly drop soundly off to sleep.

In the morning, Jinyoung wakes up to find himself lying on his side, nose-to-nose with Jaegeun whose arms and legs seem to be splayed everywhere. He can tell the furnace fire has died down, but tangled up together like this under the blankets, it's still very warm and cozy. Jinyoung takes care not to move or blink, or even breathe too loudly so as not to disturb the deeply sleeping Jaegeun beside him.

After a long while, Jaegeun too, opens his eyes. They promptly widen at the sight of Jinyoung so close and staring back at him, but they don't pull away from each other. Neither of them is sure how long they spend simply looking and confirming the realness of one another in the vulnerable morning light, but they're both keenly aware that something feels different. Relying on each other to survive through the night has brought them closer in a more meaningful way. 

Gradually, Jaegeun begins to move. Reaching with his fingers, he touches Jinyoung’s face in a silent question. _Warm enough?_

Jinyoung finds Jaegeun's other hand under the blanket, squeezing gently in a silent response. _I'm okay._

Even so, Jaegeun can't help but notice the poet's ever-cold hands. He flattens Jinyoung's palm over his own bare chest and shivers a little because it's like pressing ice to his skin, but it's worth it to see Jinyoung smile. The moment transforms when their eyes meet again, both still a little sleepy and Jinyoung's cold hand guarding Jaegeun's beating heart. Jaegeun can no longer ignore whatever this is. Curious to see how far it could go, he nudges forward and they accidentally brush noses. As he watches Jinyoung's eyes flutter shut, Jaegeun is certain he's not alone in this pulsating pool of new feelings. Just as he closes his eyes and expects to feel the softness of lips against lips, Jinyoung jolts away and jumps out of bed. The rosy moment shatters, leaving Jaegeun to flounder alone with want and confusion.

The rest of the morning passes in awkward silence. They wash in silence, dress in silence, and eat in silence after Jaegeun boils his leftover rice into a soothing jook porridge for their sour stomachs. The snow starts falling again soon after they finish eating. After the dishes are cleared, Jinyoung sits on the porch, quiet and closed off as he gazes up at the snowy sky. Frustrated by the unexplained emotional distancing, Jaegeun throws his comforter over his shoulders and takes a seat next to Jinyoung on the porch. He shares the blanket, wrapping one end over Jinyoung's shoulders, and stares at the poet's stony profile.

"Do you want this back too?" Jaegeun asks as he holds out the poem that fell out of Jinyoung's hanbok.

Jinyoung looks down at the book of poems in his hands and shakes his head. "No, you can keep that one."

"Okay, thanks." Jaegeun chews on his lip in an attempt to hold back and give Jinyoung space, but he can't take this anymore. "So... what's wrong?"

Jinyoung stares off into the distance and shrugs. "Nothing…"

"You're lying."

A sigh wisps between Jinyoung's teeth and he stops to mentally prepare himself. "All right. There's... something I have to tell you."

"I'm listening."

"The last time I visited, I told you my name was Jinyoung, and that's true."

Jaegeun frowns. "Okay?"

"But I'm also Lee Ahn… the Crown Prince of Joseon." Jinyoung turns just slightly enough to observe Jaegeun's reaction from the corner of his eye.

Jaegeun's mind goes completely blank when he tries to process this sentence. He tries again. _Jinyoung is Lee Ahn. Lee Ahn is the Crown Prince. THE Crown Prince. Of Joseon. JINYOUNG IS THE CROWN PRINCE OF JOSEON._ The gears are turning so fast in Jaegeun's head as he repeats this train of logic to himself. Suddenly, so many things begin to make more sense. The embroidery on his manggeon the day they fought the yangban bullies? It was a dragon. A _royal_ dragon. Talking about the baekseongdeul like his life depends on protecting and leading the people of Joseon? A simple truth, especially when he becomes the KING! (Jaegeun nearly swears at the glorious mental image of King Jinyoung). The arrogant mannerisms when he first visited the village? He was just being his princely self, probably came straight from the palace, of course! All his efforts to recruit Jaegeun and his mission to wipe corruption from the palace to improve Joseon's future? Growing up at the Ocean Palace? Jaegeun closes his eyes, feeling a little faint. _ Sesangeh. Heaven help me. _

Jinyoung witnesses countless expressions flit across Jaegeun's face. Confusion, disbelief, regret, shame, fear, shock… he knows it's all there in his head and that it might take some time for Jaegeun to wade through this mess. Just when he's about to ask whether everything is okay, Jaegeun faces him and desperately searches Jinyoung's eyes. 

"You're the WHAT?!" he splutters, needing to hear Jinyoung say it again.

Before Jinyoung can even begin to explain, a voice calls out from the other side of Jaegeun's front gate.

"HYUNG, I'M BAAAAACK!"

Jinyoung and Jaegeun simultaneously turn their heads to find Bongjoon waving and trudging through the snow towards them. He hops over the barely visible gate and makes his way to stand before them. When Jinyoung sees Bongjoon's horse, he abruptly stands and begins gathering his things. 

Once Bongjoon is within talking distance, Jinyoung finishes tying his gat and is quick to make a request. "May I borrow your horse? I need to return to Hanyang immediately."

Bongjoon gives Jaegeun a confused look as he sits next to his brother. "Eoi, naeuri! Aren't you the one who helped us at the tavern last summer? What are you doing here?"

"Yeah," Jaegeun replies, still floored by the new information and the tidal wave of revelations he's just had. Then he comes to his senses. "Wait, what are _you_ doing here, Bongjoon?"

Bongjoon nods at Jaegeun with a knowing grin. "I knew you'd be missing me. I came back for you, obviously!" Then he turns to Jinyoung, "Sure, naeuri. You can take him. Just don't forget to bring him back," Bongjoon adds shrewdly.

"Thank you. I won't forget," Jinyoung says as he runs for the horse. "Thank you, both!" he shouts over his shoulder before hopping the gate.

Jaegeun watches ~~Jinyoung~~ Crown Prince Ahn mount Bongjoon's horse and ride away through the snow. While he's not sure how to feel about all the royalty business, Jaegeun is definitely sure that he's sad to see Jinyoung go.

_The least he could've done was tell me when he'll be coming back..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This is a real Korean poem written by Na Hui Duk. I came across it in a poetry anthology I have and thought it was perfect for the story.
> 
> ** This is my sincere translation/interpretation of Na Hui Duk's poem. It's more of an artistic interpretation to preserve the nuance, rather than a literal word for word translation. I hope I did it justice!
> 
> So I've taken some creative liberties with the idea of hangeul, especially in this chapter. The first versions of the hangeul alphabet in Joeson times were not so sophisticated, and obviously the poem I chose is a contemporary work... but let's have fun with our imaginations and let this fictional Jinyoung be a magnificent poet who's way ahead of his time huhuhu :D
> 
> I was planning for this to be a friends to lovers story but... I guess jinson wants to fast forward through the friendship stage? I swear, sometimes the characters go off on their own when I start writing, no matter how much I try to plan the story in advance. Anyway, this was definitely my favorite chapter to write so far... did you like it? :3


	6. A Shroud For Persistence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaegeun and Jinyoung both regroup with the people closest to them, and Prince Youngbin thinks back on the events of last summer.

Jaegeun remains seated on the porch after Jinyoung's departure, eyeing Bongjoon suspiciously. 

"What are you _really_ doing here?"

"I agreed to meet a friend in Hanyang today."

"A friend? Who?" Jaegeun leans forward to inspect his brother's expression more closely.

"You don't know him."

Jaegeun scoffs. "How can you know someone I don't?"

Bongjoon shrugs while maintaining a blank expression. "Does it matter? He couldn’t make it, so I decided to come see you instead. I was worried you'd be spending another cold winter all by your lonesome." He tugs at the comforter still wrapped around Jaegeun's shoulders. "But I found you all nice and cozy with an unknown friend of your own," Bongjoon needles with a raised brow.

"Thanks for the concern. I can see I'm such a huge priority for you," Jaegeun rolls his eyes. “And he’s not an _unknown_ friend. Jinyoung would be sad to hear that after saving your ass from those _yangban_ thugs.”

"I guess I do know him, don't I?" Bongjoon gives his hyung a sly smile.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jaegeun growls.

Bongjoon ignores the question to straighten his cloth headband. It's a black one today, with a small silhouette of a flying bird embroidered over one ear.

"Where did you get this?" Jaegeun asks with genuine interest, pointing at the delicately elegant accessory. It looks good on his brother, but Jaegeun doesn't feel like telling him so at the moment.

"My friend gave it to me," Bongjoon replies vaguely.

Jaegeun clucks his tongue in annoyance. "You're really not going to tell me, are you? Why are you being so secretive? Must be someone special if he's giving you pretty gifts like this." 

Bongjoon fiends hearing loss as he looks off into the distance.

"Fine. If you're not going to be useful for conversation or company, you might as well leave. Isn't it too cold for you? You've confirmed that I’m alive. Now get back on the road already," Jaegeun pouts.

"Ey! Don't be like that, hyung." Bongjoon throws an arm around Jaegeun’s neck with an apologetic chuckle. "Besides, Jinyoung-naeuri took my horse. You're stuck with me until the snow melts!" 

The poem in Jaegeun's hand crumples when Bongjoon tightens his grip around Jaegeun’s shoulders. "Hmm? What's that?" 

Jaegeun looks down at the paper, wondering the same thing. _Why did Jinyoung let me keep it?_ Bongjoon’s thin fingers dart out to pluck it from his brother’s hands and he turns away to puzzle over the hangeul characters.

"A love letter?" Bongjoon teases.

"It's a poem," comes Jaegeun’s bland reply.

"A love poem?!" Bongjoon crows. He jumps to his feet to hold the paper up to better lighting. "What does it say?"

Jaegeun stands and reads the poem out loud over Bongjoon's shoulder, trying to pull more meaning out of it again. Afterwards, Bongjoon silently processes the words and Jaegeun grows impatient. 

"What do you think it means?" 

"Wait a minute. When did you learn how to read hangeul? Or is this hanmun? Did you always read this well?!" Bongjoon's arms drop to his sides and his jaw joins them in shock.

"It's hangeul. And I learned it last night. It's not too hard. I can teach you, if you want?" Jaegeun offers with a tempting grin. 

"Oh whatever, let's go inside. It's freezing out here," Bongjoon stalls as he hands the poem back. He slips off his straw boots and stomps into the warmth of the hut. As Jaegeun follows, Bongjoon yanks away his hyung's blanket and wraps it around himself. "Did Jinyoung-naeuri give it to you?" 

Jaegeun nods as they both take a seat on the warm ondol.

"He wrote it himself?"

"Yes…"

Bongjoon shrewdly narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“I need more information. What happened? Don’t leave out any details.”

Quite some time later, after Jaegeun has rehashed the events of the last twenty-four hours in painstaking detail, Bongjoon rubs at his chin, deep in thought.

"It _does_ sound like a love poem, but his actions don't seem to match, do they?"

Jaegeun waits for Bongjoon to elaborate further, but he merely scratches his head and shrugs.

"Only Jinyoung-naeuri knows what this poem really means. You should be direct and ask him, if you're so curious."

Jaegeun closes his eyes, only just barely maintaining his patience. Through clenched teeth he replies, "I spent all this time explaining what happened and that's all you have to say? After making it sound like you had all the answers?" His eyes snap open to glare at Bongjoon. "Really?!"

Bongjoon laughs awkwardly. "Well, it’s not my fault that I've never had a problem like this before. When I like someone, I tell them and they either like me back or they don't, you know? Jinyoung-naeuri seems to be a little more complicated than that...”

A groan of frustration bubbles up Jaegeun's throat as he reads through the poem again.

Feeling apologetic, Bongjoon pats his brother's arm in sympathy. "You know, it could be that you were moving too fast."

With a tilt of his head, Jaegeun disagrees. "I’m telling you, something changed. I _know_ he felt it too."

“Yeah, maybe, but it sounds like naeuri’s got a lot of big plans for you in the future. You can’t go falling in love before any of the real work gets done!”

Jaegeun’s expression slackens sadly. “Why not?”

“Well, if you think about it… How long have you even known each other? And how much of that time have you actually spent _together_? There’s nothing to rush, right? Especially if you’re going to spend loads more time planning a revolution or whatever.”

Jaegeun sighs. “Yeah, I guess…”

“Hyung, there's something more important we need to talk about," Bongjoon says anxiously as he huddles closer to the hwaro.

“What is it?”

“Once you take this Japgwa thing and join the royal militia… you said the next step is getting a job inside the palace, right?”

“Mmhmm...” Jaegeun waits uncomfortably for the other shoe to drop.

Bongjoon holds his hyung’s gaze with an accusatory glare. “What about Namsadang?” 

Jaegeun knew he’d need to discuss this with Bongjoon sooner or later, but he was hoping it would be much later than this. Jaegeun scratches at the back of his head, squirming against the guilt. “I’m quitting. I won’t be going back in the spring.”

Bongjoon leans back and tongues his cheek in disbelief. “You’re not serious.”

Jaegeun fixes his brother with a meaningful gaze. He wants Bongjoon to understand how important this decision is and at the same time, how sad he is to be making it.

“You’re really going to quit. Just like that. Just because some fancy handsome naeuri came along and asked you to drop your life and follow him?” Bongjoon’s tone peaks and he kicks the blanket aside to rise to his feet. “Did he promise you a better life? Is he going to make you rich and successful? So what, do I have to call you Jaegeun-naeuri now?” He barks out a cruel laugh at the absurdity of it. “How could you sell yourself so easily without telling me a single thing?!” Bongjoon finally bursts, unable to hold back his true frustration any longer.

Jaegeun stands and tries to grab his brother’s hand. “Bongjoon-ah…”

“How can you be so quick to throw us away? Like we’re nothing?” the younger brother's voice breaks as he searches his hyung’s eyes. 

“I’m not throwing Namsadang away. I’m moving on to the next chapter of my life,” Jaegeun tries to explain, but Bongjoon turns away, dissatisfied. “Jinyoung hasn’t promised me anything, not really. He asked me to help him make Joseon a better place for everyone, especially cheonmin like us. He really cares about social issues and he has the means to make a real difference. How could I say no? You know what this means to me.”

Bongjoon scoffs and chooses to focus on the negative. “Wow, that was stupid. The least you could have done was ask for payment in return for giving up your entire life.”

Jaegeun hangs his head, understanding how lofty it all sounds. “Well, there is something I have in mind, but I haven’t had the chance to talk to him about it yet.”

Bongjoon waits in stubborn silence, still sulking at an empty corner of the room. 

“I want to ask him to help me find my parents. Or at least help me figure out what might have happened to them…”

At this, Bongjoon stills. After a thoughtful moment passes, he faces Jaegeun with a wary, but empathetic expression. 

“You really think he can help you with that?”

“Yes, I really think he could."

* * *

Ahn comes to a sweeping halt outside the King’s quarters. The summons arrived just as soon as he’d returned to the Hanyang palace, giving him barely enough time to change back into his royal attire. As the attending eunuch announces the Crown Prince’s arrival, Ahn straightens the ikseongwan headgear atop his head and smooths the front of his royal black robes. Unsurprisingly enough, the extra fidgeting does nothing to lessen the weight of the silver dragon insignias on his shoulders. 

“Enter,” King Hoon’s muted voice calls from his inner chambers.

The rice-paper paneled doors slide open under the hands of the court maids standing at either side of the doorway and Ahn sighs. Meeting his father has always been like this, with so many extra steps and tiers of etiquette to follow. Ahn steps over the threshold and chooses to remain optimistic. There must have been some other urgent reason for the King to return to Hanyang. But if not, then this could be an opportunity to explain himself.

Prince Ahn must step through another set of sliding doors before the King is finally revealed, sitting upon a raised dais at the back of the room. He waits for the Prince to approach, still as a painting against a backdrop of beautiful landscapes depicted on folding screens. Ahn sees the King’s attire is not his usual robes of crimson and gold, but damp winter outerwear in lighter tones of blue and gray. A traveling gat lays on the ornate floor table in front of His Majesty, glistening with melting snow. Ahn grimaces with guilt. _Father must have ridden all the way back through the night if he’s only just arrived._ When Ahn is close enough to inspect his father’s face, the fire he meets there is self-explanatory. _It didn’t work._

“Did you really think this would work?” the King nearly whispers. He pulls Ahn’s letter out of his sleeve and slaps it down on the table next to his gat. 

Ahn looks down at the toes of his boots, gathering his courage. 

“Using the blizzard as an excuse to remain in Hanyang is one thing,” King Hoon continues, “but spending an entire night outside of the palace? Where in heaven's name have you been?!” 

“I visited a friend, abba-mama,” Ahn tries to explain. 

“A _friend_?” the King asks incredulously. “When have you had the time to be making friends?”

Ahn suppresses a scoff and lifts his chin in defiance. “So you would agree then, that umma-mama is right to call the palace a prison?”

King Hoon exhales impatiently. "I acknowledge that your mother is a free spirit. However, as the King and the Crown Prince, it is our royal duty--”

“To rot in the palace?!” Ahn interrupts.

The King balks in surprise. It’s not like the Crown Prince to forget his manners like this. “Seja, you know we have more enemies within the palace than without! We must never let our guard down. We do not have the time to be frolicking amongst the commoners as we please! I merely want you to be as fully prepared as you can be, sooner rather than later! Is that really so detestable?” the King nearly pleads.

“Abba-mama, please hear me. I understand your concern and I am trying to heed your advice. Why is it so hard to believe that my methods of preparation to inherit the throne are simply... different?”

“Do enlighten me about what these methods are then,” the King grumbles.

The Crown Prince takes a steadying breath when he recognizes an opportunity to prove himself. “You are always reminding me that our worst enemies are within the palace and I have seen for myself that you are right. Knowing this, isn’t it only logical for me to seek more trustworthy allies beyond these walls? And once found, is it wrong to try and strengthen those ties over time to confirm their trustworthiness?”

“Are you implying--” King Hoon begins, but the Prince interrupts again to continue his explanation.

“I have taken it upon myself to search for allies and friends who will become _my_ people in the palace when the time comes, abba-mama. You are still a strong monarch and your reign will undoubtedly last a full and prosperous lifetime. In fact, I may be very old and gray by the time I finally do succeed the throne! Can’t you see that I am choosing to use all this time as the Crown Prince to ensure that my reign will be just as strong?” 

The words tumble from Ahn’s lips before he can second-guess himself. He watches his father for signs of approval, or at least understanding, but the King’s expression only darkens further.

“Seja, do you mean to say that you are running around the city, recruiting people of questionable backgrounds to what, some sort of political uprising?” The King holds Prince Ahn’s gaze with a quivering fury.

Ahn is deeply confused. Considering all his recent interactions with Jaegeun up until now, his father has actually summarized the plan somewhat accurately, but he’s disconcerted by the King’s strong choice of words. Ahn is fairly certain he hadn’t said a single word about a _political uprising,_ but if that’s where his father’s conclusions are jumping… 

“Abba-mama, please do not misunderstand--”

“Do you mean to usurp the throne? Is that what you are planning?” 

The Crown Prince can do nothing but gape in shock at this heinous accusation. _Didn't I just explain that I'm trying to do the exact opposite?_ _Where is this fear and suspicion coming from?_

When the Prince fails to respond, the King slams his fist on the table and rises furiously to his feet. “You will answer me, Seja!” he shouts through a slight wheeze. 

Ahn frowns at the floor. “Is that what you're truly afraid of?” he asks quietly, lifting his head to look the King in the eyes. “Abba-mama, you must know that I never asked to be born the Crown Prince. If you were so worried that your own son would try to usurp the throne by some treasonous way… then why bother having a child in the first place?” 

Ahn’s tone is bordering on slander now, but he receives instant satisfaction at the sight of his father’s reaction. King Hoon stares at his son with a complicated mixture of horror and regret, but it’s too late to take back the accusation he’s made. He blinks awkwardly through his own uncharacteristic display of emotions and remains speechless at the foot of the Crown Prince’s bitter retort.

Ahn watches as a sudden shame wets the corners of his father’s eyes. A wave of guilt washes over the Prince. _Was I too harsh?_ “Father…” he begins apologetically, but the overly familiar term of endearment snaps the King out of his self-reflection.

“You will address your King with the appropriate royal titles!” King Hoon spits in a desperate effort to regain control of the situation.

The moment of remorse passes over Ahn so quickly, he almost laughs at the irony of this entire conversation. The Crown Prince straightens his posture, finding he has no more energy left to expend on this ridiculous argument. 

“Yes, of course Jeonha,” he replies with a stiff bow. “You will always and ever be the King… but never a _father._ ” The Prince clenches his shaking hands into fists, willing himself not to look away from his father’s reddening face. 

In the next instant, King Hoon’s expression falls flat and cold. “You are hereby banished to the Ocean Palace until further notice. Get out of my sight and don’t even think about stepping foot outside its walls until I’ve decided what to do with you.” 

The King quietly delivers yet another futile punishment, but the Prince is already turning away. With his back turned, Prince Ahn stops at the doorway to have one last word.

“Your royal commands are only effective because I _choose_ to respect and obey them, _Your Majesty_.” 

* * *

“I hope I didn’t push you too hard,” Jinyoung murmurs to Bongjoon’s horse as he brushes the beast's snow-damp mane. He'd gone straight to the stables after the argument, not needing any reminders to immediately proceed with his newest punishment. He’d urged the poor horse as fast as possible until they finally arrived at the Ocean Palace well-past midnight.

After setting out some food and water for the faithful steed, Jinyoung latches the stall behind himself. Then, a familiar voice calls out his name.

“Jinyoungie-hyung!”

Jinyoung smiles as Prince Youngbin pokes his head around the stable entrance. He waves, happy to see that his older brother has successfully arrived in one piece.

“You haven’t gone to bed yet,” Jinyoung observes as they fall into step along the path to the inner palace. 

The baby-faced prince shakes his head. “We were too worried, and I had a feeling you'd show up eventually. Did you meet up with abba-mama before you left Hanyang? He left us here as soon as he read your letter...”

Jinyoung nods in shame, not wanting to elaborate any further.

Prince Youngbin studies his brother’s profile as they walk along by lantern light. “Hyung… you okay?”

Prince Ahn assembles a warm, reassuring expression on his face and nods, not wanting to prolong his brother’s distress any longer. 

“Thanks Yugyeom-ah, I’m okay. Really.”

Prince Youngbin stops in his tracks. “Hyung!”

Startled and growing wearier with every step, Jinyoung turns back. “What is it?”

“You just called me Yugyeom again. I'm a prince too. How many times do I have to ask you to use my royal title?”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “Even when it’s just us?”

Prince Youngbin nods. 

“My sincerest apologies, daegoon-mama. I shall remember to address you only as Prince Youngbin, as you wish.” Jinyoung bends into a deep, sarcastic bow. When Youngbin trots up the path to join him, smugly satisfied by this silly apology and promise, Jinyoung rights himself and gives his brother a look of mild distaste. 

“Hmph. You sound just like abba-mama.”

“What do you mean?” Youngbin asks as they continue along the path.

“He said nearly the same thing to me this morning when I called him _father_ …”

Prince Youngbin chews on his lip in anguish. He runs ahead of his brother and spins around in a swirl of his lavender evening robes to stop Jinyoung with a hand to each of his shoulders. “I take it back. It was my mistake, hyung. You can call me Yugyeom. Yugyeom is fine,” he says looking truly repentant.

Jinyoung smiles in triumph and affection. “As it should be. Besides, you call me Jinyoungie-hyung all the time. You know how much I hate hypocrites, right?”

Yugyeom rolls his eyes and they continue walking. “Yes, and you know how much I like _you_ , right?” 

“ _Like_? Is that it? Is it really so hard to tell your brother how much you love him?” Jinyoung teases.

“Ey, hyung!” Yugyeom scrunches his nose in forged irritation. “Love is a _silent_ agreement between family members. Why do you always give me grief for never saying it out loud? What I mean is that I also genuinely like you _as a person_ , regardless of our blood relations. Don’t you know how rare that is between siblings? You’re very lucky to have such a perfect younger brother.” Yugyeom cuffs his brother’s arm a little bashfully.

Jinyoung's initial scoff turns into a hearty belly laugh and Yugyeom sniggers at the sound of it. His smile warms as he watches Jinyoungie-hyung loosen up from the stress of constantly trying to meet their father’s expectations and whatever else happened this morning. As Jinyoung's laughter dies down, the sibling princes walk along toward the east wing of the palace in comfortable silence. As they near the palace gardens, Yugyeom musters the courage to ask his burning question.

“Are you going to tell me why abba-mama is so mad?” 

Jinyoung sighs. “Don’t ask me about abba-mama right now. I’m trying to forget what happened.”

“Why? What happened?” 

"I literally _just_ told you not to ask me that," Jinyoung says venemously, but a tiny smile is already ghosting across his lips.

When he doesn’t respond further, Yugyeom pouts and pokes Jinyoung’s arm. “Come on. You know you’ll feel better after we talk about it.”

The smile finally breaks through Jinyoung's icy facade and he chuckles. Though it’s been years since Yugyeom’s growth spurt made him the taller of the two, he never fails to remind Jinyoung of his lifetime right to use baby brother aegyo tactics. 

“It’s got something to do with the acrobat you were trying to recruit over the summer, right?” Yugyeom asks excitedly.

“You’re not getting too cold yet, are you?” Jinyoung suddenly asks.

“Speak for yourself, hyung.” Yugyeom gives Jinyoung a once-over and realizes he's still wearing the black and silver dragon robes. “Did you ride all the way from Hanyang wearing just your yongbok?” 

Jinyoung shakes his head. “I’m wearing extra layers underneath and see? Yoon-negwan gave me these,” he explains, giving Yugyeom a peek of the fur-lined winter gear tucked into his sleeves. “If you’re still okay, then come on,” Jinyoung says as he doubles back toward the garden entrance. “Let’s keep walking.”

*** * * FLASHBACK TO LAST SUMMER * * ***

“See? Isn’t it nice to get out of the palace every once in a while?” Prince Youngbin asks as he strolls through the Hanyang market under a late afternoon sun.

Prince Ahn glares as he strolls right alongside his brother. “When have I ever said anything to the contrary? I’d leave the palace daily, if only that I could!” 

Yugyeom snickers at his brother’s frustration. It’s so easy to tease Jinyoungie-hyung these days. 

“Just be glad I had the sense to officially request your company,” Yugyeom scolds with a proud smirk.

“How did you get abba-mama to agree, anyway?” Jinyoung asks.

“He was in a good mood,” Yugyeom shrugs.

Jinyoung’s curiosity deflates. “How easy it is for you, Daegoon. I always suspected that father favors you over me. This is proof.”

“Nonsense, Seja Jeoha!” Yugyeom says, comically matching Jinyoungie-hyung’s formal speech. “But I have to admit, I really do enjoy _not_ being the firstborn son,” he gushes sheepishly. He wouldn’t trade anything in this world to be in his hyung’s shoes.

The brothers walk down the main market street in their yangban disguises, browsing the various stalls of trinkets and goods. It’s so rare for them to spend quality time outside of the palace together like this. Jinyoung insists on stopping at the bookseller’s stall and Yugyeom relents, not feeling cruel enough today to deprive hyung of his favorite hobby (even though he doesn’t share it). He lingers near the doorway as Jinyoung disappears between the cramped shelves. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?” Jinyoung asks from somewhere between the stacks, his voice muffled and only slightly tinged with jealousy. He wishes he could be as familiar with all the comings and goings outside of the palace too, but he doesn’t get to leave whenever he wants (the way Prince Youngbin apparently can). 

“Tonight is the first Namsadang performance of the season!” Yugyeom explains with a child-like delight. He leans back against a display shelf next to the doorway, happily observing the bustling street before him.

“Is that so?” Jinyoung smiles at his brother’s excitement and adds yet another book to the pile he already plans to purchase. He’s been looking forward to an opportunity to watch a Namsadang performance as well. 

Yugyeom grins proudly, knowing this is Jinyoungie-hyung’s way of expressing approval. As he observes the passersby, Yugyeom notices a familiar figure entering the tailoring shop across the street. 

“Hyung, stay here. I’ll be right back!” 

As Yugyeom crosses the street and runs up to the stall, he catches the sound of a young man’s voice coming from within. 

“Auntie, could you trim these sashes for me? They’re a little too wide.” 

Yugyeom steps up to the entrance of the tailoring shop and peers between rows of every type of fabric imaginable. The figure he recognized from across the street is definitely one of the younger Namsadang performers. _I knew it!_

“Goodness, you’re quite right young man! Let me fix those for you,” the seamstress auntie says to the performer. He nods in thanks and begins browsing the fabrics as he waits. 

Yugyeom stays out of sight, deliberating the best way to drum up a conversation. Before he can think of anything natural and easy, the auntie returns.

“How’s this, sweetie?” she asks, handing over the trimmed sashes. “Go ahead, try them on.”

Yugyeom watches as the performer stands before a mirror at the back of the shop. He stylishly layers each sash around his waist, securing them in a series of interconnected knots. 

“Perfect! Thanks auntie,” he says with a flirtatious wink. 

The seamstress titters at the extra attention and waves away the coin he offers as payment. “Adjustments are on the house! Oh and here’s the extra fabric, since you already paid for it.” 

The performer removes and folds the trimmed sashes, carefully stowing them in the front fold of his tunic. He then accepts the scraps as well, though a bit reluctantly as he's still unsure what to do with them. 

“Thank you, have a nice day!” he says as he turns to exit the shop.

“Excuse me? You’re one of the Namsadang performers, aren’t you?” Yugyeom blurts out with a sunny smile. With his height, he easily blocks the entire doorway. He couldn't come up with anything wittier in the end, but it's better than missing the opportunity all together.

“I am,” the performer grins, happy to be recognized. 

“My brother and I are attending the performance tonight. We’re very excited to see what the troupe has planned this season!”

“Thank you, naeuri,” the young man says with a humble bow. “You won’t be disappointed.” 

“What will you do with your extra fabric?” Yugyeom asks to prevent the performer from leaving too quickly.

“Oh, I’m not sure…” then the performer's eyes light up when he gets a bold idea. “Maybe a headband?”

Yugyeom nods vigorously in encouragement, knowing very well that it’s generally frowned upon for cheonmin to wear such accessories. _Who cares, as long as it looks good?_

“Hmm, which color though?” the young man asks.

“Mmm, this one.” Yugyeom points at the red strip of fabric in the other's hands. 

The performer quickly folds the fabric to size and ties it around his forehead. “What do you think?”

“Oh,” Yugyeom says with an approving nod. “Very nice. You look good in red,” he says and steps away from the doorway to let the young man pass.

He follows Yugyeom out onto the street and smirks. “You should know I only asked for your help because I look good in _everything_ , naeuri.” 

Yugyeom laughs out loud. “Yes chingoo, I believe that you do!” 

What Yugyeom doesn't see next, is the look of surprise on the young performer's face. It's not every day you hear a yangban calling a cheonmin his _friend._

"If you're not planning on using those scraps for anything else… may I have them?" Yugyeom asks brazenly.

The performer scratches at the back of his neck. "Uh yeah, sure. Here you go." He pulls them back out of his tunic and hands them over to the strange naeuri.

With a wink of gratitude (that he'd only just learned from the young performer mere minutes ago), Yugyeom tucks the fabric into his hanbok without offering a single word of explanation. His new friend is too uncomfortable to demand a reason, so with a shrug, he gives the naeuri the benefit of the doubt and quietly moves on.

The two naturally make their way in the same direction towards the end of the street. The city gates come into view ahead of them, where the road eventually leads around to the Namsadang clearing. 

“Ah, I’ve left my brother at the book shop. I should get back before he wonders where I’ve gone,” Yugyeom says ruefully.

“And there’s _my_ brother, being a fool again,” his new friend says with a sigh. He gestures at a figure standing at the notice board near the city gates. 

Yugyeom looks and tilts his head, unsure what it is that could be seen as foolish. Yugyeom thinks the young performer’s hyung looks rather scholarly at the moment, reading the posted announcement as closely as he is.

“There you are!” Jinyoung’s voice suddenly yells from somewhere unseen. Yugyeom turns to find his hyung striding toward them with a grumpy scowl on his face. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he grumbles, hoisting the strap of his book parcel higher on his shoulder. 

“Sorry, hyung! Were you afraid of getting lost? Or that I’d abandoned you?” Yugyeom heckles.

“You wish,” Jinyoung smirks. “Making new friends?”

“Oh yes, this is one of the Namsadang performers!”

“Hello, naeuri. My name is Bongjoon. It’s very nice to meet you,” the performer introduces himself with a polite bow. 

“My name is Yugyeom, and this is Jinyoungie-hyung,” Yugyeom replies, careful not to use their royal names. “It’s been nice meeting you as well!”

“Well, I need to be getting on my way. You should both look forward to the performance tonight! My hyung, Wang Jaegeun, he’s the one standing at the notice board over there, he’s been practicing his jooltagi routine for months. He’s going to kill it!” Bongjoon rambles, but Jinyoung is distracted when he finally spots Bongjoon's brother in the distance. 

“Does this hyung of yours know that it’s illegal for cheonmin to read?” Jinyoung asks without looking away from the acrobat.

A look of terror creeps over Bongjoon’s features. “I’m so sorry, naeuri! Please don’t report him!” he pleads. 

“So, he really is reading that announcement right now?” Jinyoung asks mildly.

Bongjoon hesitates a beat before nodding. “I keep telling him to be careful, but I guess he can’t help it. He only knows a little bit, naeuri, I swear!” 

“How does your hyung feel about cheonmin illiteracy, do you know?” Jinyoung suddenly turns to question the young performer with an intense gaze. Meanwhile, Yugyeom keeps his mouth shut as he looks back and forth between the two, wondering where this conversation is heading.

“Oh he grumbles about it all the time!” Bongjoon frowns, wondering whether he should be holding his tongue, but these naeuris have been surprisingly kind and friendly. “He thinks it’s very unfair, and I know he secretly longs to read whatever he pleases, wherever he pleases…” the young performer squeezes his eyes shut, fearful that he’s just condemned his brother and himself to some horrible punishment. “Naeuri, please promise to forget that you saw him and everything I told you today,” Bongjoon begs.

“All right, I promise,” Jinyoung agrees (a little too quickly in Yugyeom’s opinion). “As long as you also promise to forget we met and had this conversation today.”

“Yes, of course!” Bongjoon agrees breathlessly, relieved that the handsome naeuri hasn’t demanded some sort of gratuitous payment or impossible favor. “Well, I better go stop him before he gets caught by someone less forgiving. We have a performance to prepare for. I’ll look for you both in the audience tonight!” Bongjoon waves and begins edging back through a throng of people already moving towards the Namsadang clearing. 

“We’ll be there! Good luck!” Yugyeom calls. 

“Don’t need it, but thanks! Chingoo-yah!” Bongjoon calls back.

As Bongjoon jogs away, Yugyeom turns to give his brother a quizzical look. “Hyung, do cheonmin really get punished if they're caught reading in public?” 

Jinyoung considers the question. “It’s not punishable by law, no. I’ve never heard of such a case at an official court level, but it's hard to say what really happens out on the streets. People accept that cheonmin are forbidden from doing all sorts of things without a second thought.” 

“Then you lied! Why did you have to scare Bongjoon like that!?” Yugyeom scolds. 

“I wanted to see his reaction and learn more about this literate acrobat hyung of his.”

“Again… why?” Yugyeom pushes with growing suspicions. 

Jinyoung quickly surveys their surroundings for any unwanted eavesdroppers. Catching on quickly, Yugyeom nods toward a quiet alley off the main street, but Jinyoung shakes his head. In a low voice he explains, "It's harder to be overheard in the middle of a crowd like this. Keep your voice down, eyes on the street in front of you. And be careful of what you say." 

Yugyeom nods and casually steps half a step closer to his brother to hear him better as they continue walking with the crowd.

"Do you remember the seonbi scholar I anonymously recommended a while ago?" Jinyoung asks.

Yugyeom nods. "Father ended up appointing him as a transcriber, right?" he replies (and gives himself a mental pat on the back for avoiding the words _abba-mama_ and _royal court)_. 

A rogue smile slides into place upon Jinyoung's face. Though neither of them turn to directly look at each other, Yugyeom catches sight of it in his peripheral vision.

"Woah, hold on." Yugyeom thinks hard. "Are you saying…"

Jinyoung nods, urging his brother to continue with this train of thought.

"Was that seonbi originally cheonmin?!" Yugyeom fights to keep his expression neutral (and low-key worries that he might be looking a little constipated from the effort).

"His whole family are outcasts because of his grandmother. She's a mudang fortuneteller."

The younger prince's eyes widen beyond control. He never realized how hard his hyung was secretly working on this project.

"There was also a culinary assistant who was appointed to the kitchens some time after that…" Jinyoung continues.

"Yejoonie-hyung?!" Yugyeom nearly yelps in surprise before getting distracted by his growling stomach. "Doesn't he make the _best_ yakgwa honey cakes though? Wait, he was cheonmin too?!"

Jinyoung leans up close to his brother's ear. "Yejoon is the son of a butcher!" he whispers. 

Yugyeom suppresses the urge to clap a hand over his mouth, but can't stop himself from turning to look at his hyung with new eyes. "How did you do it?"

Jinyoung shrugs. "They just needed a little nudge in the right direction. All I did was sponsor their studies."

"So much respect, hyung." Yugyeom claps to emphasize how impressed he is. "So is that what you're thinking for Bongjoon's hyung too?” Yugyeom rises on tip toe to search the end of the street for another look at the acrobat, but he’s long gone by now. “You know, that hyung is probably trained in martial arts. He kind of looks like the performer who always did the military skits in previous performance seasons. He’d always wear realistic costume armor for the fight scenes!”

Jinyoung purses his lips with intrigue. “Is that so? I'll need to meet with him before I decide to recruit him, but if he’s as good of an acrobat as you and Bongjoon say, with the added bonus of martial arts experience... I think it might be time to make a friend in the militia..."

With a conspiratorial smile, Yugyeom bobs his head in agreement. "I guess we better go watch him perform, then."

Jinyoung grins. "Yes, I think we'd better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very soft for jingyeom and jackbam brothers <3 This chapter was significantly influenced by certain details found in the kdramas Moonlight Drawn By Clouds and Dong Yi (and probably a bunch of other sageuks too lol). I hope this one didn't seem too much like a filler chapter. Thought it would be a good idea to try filling in some holes before making new ones :p


	7. Another Naeuri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Youngbin and Bongjoon learn some surprising new things about their hyungs. Then another strange naeuri pays Jaegeun a visit.

Prince Ahn looks out over the palace wall, quietly observing the sparse landscape ahead. He stands upon his favorite pavilion, an intricate structure raised on stilts to provide a perfect view of the ocean, at least during daylight hours. Right now all he can see is the closest bit of beach, dimly illuminated by the palace lanterns. Beyond that, only darkness and the sound of waves crashing against the distant shore.

"So how are things going with the acrobat hyung?" Yugyeom asks as he steps up to Jinyoung's side. 

With a peculiar lift of his eyebrows, Jinyoung glances sidelong at his younger brother. "Wang Jaegeun?" He bends to look at the wooden floor planks with a slow nod. "It's going."

Yugyeom watches a tiny smile curl at the corner of Jinyoung’s mouth. "Aaaand?"

"His studies are coming along nicely. I've convinced him to take the Japgwa and he's agreed to apply for the royal militia."

Yugyeom gapes. "You've been busy!"

"You saw how physically capable he is. He'll become a skilled soldier in no time. The sooner he enters the palace the better."

"You really will appoint him as your personal guard, then?"

Jinyoung nods. "Eventually, yes. That is the end goal, but we have to go through the proper hoops to get there."

Yugyeom rubs at his ear in doubt. "How are you so sure you can trust him? Isn't it rash to give him such an important position when you only met a few months ago?" 

"Yugyeom-ah. There's something I haven't told you."

The younger prince gives his brother a patronizing nod. "Of course you haven't."

Jinyoung glares. "Do you want to hear it or not?"

Yugyeom nods again, more encouragingly this time. 

"The day we went to the Namsadang performance wasn't the first time I encountered Wang Jaegeun. I’m almost certain of it now," Jinyoung says, eyes glazing over as his mind travels somewhere else.

Yugyeom blinks. Though this information is not precisely what he expected, he can't say it's coming as much of a shock either. "Wah, I'm so surprised," Yugyeom monotones with an accompanying deadpan.

Still unsurprisingly, the Crown Prince is too preoccupied to notice Yugyeom’s sarcasm. He looks off into the distance and prepares to recount his tale.

*** * * SEVERAL YEARS AGO * * ***

"Jeoha, if you insist on thwarting me like this, I dare not stop you. But can you please grant this poor servant one small favor before you go?" Yoon-negwan begs in exasperation. He leans against the main palace gates, gulping for air as he waits for the Crown Prince's answer.

The tween prince turns his nose up in an arrogant attempt at ignoring his own guilt. He doesn't like breaking abba-mama's rules, but if he could just meet with the old master for five minutes... 

"Name your request and I shall consider it," Ahn finally answers.

"Please remove your dragon headband before you exit the palace. If someone recognizes you, the King will have my head," the eunuch pleads meekly. 

Ahn gladly whips off the black and silver identifier and slaps it into the eunuch's hand. "I won't be long, I promise!" 

And without another word, the young prince is gone. 

"And so it begins…" Yoon-negwan sighs. He has a strong feeling this will not be the last time he catches the Crown Prince sneaking out of the palace. 

It is much harder to locate Master Jin than Prince Ahn anticipated. He spends the remainder of the morning loitering around the market, asking strangers where to find the acclaimed martial arts master (to no avail). It isn't until he thinks to stop a group of young men in training uniforms that he gains some useful information.

"Didn't Master Jin retreat to his mountain residence after we graduated?" one of the young soldiers wonders out loud.

"Yeah, that’s right! Hey kid, head towards the mountain temple and you're bound to pass by Master Jin's hut on the way. Good luck!"

The path leading to the temple turns out to be an arduous hike through a rocky mountain pass. Before long, Ahn is sweating, exhausted, and very much regretting his decision to chase after an old man who obviously does not want to be found.

 _I have no choice_ , the young prince reminds himself. _The instructor abba-mama appointed for my combat training has no idea what he's doing. _ An uncomfortable notion has been niggling at the back of Ahn’s mind. Was this an intentional attempt at hindering his training? He shakes off the treasonous suspicion almost immediately. _It's not true. I'm simply a picky student. I can take care of my own education,_ Ahn reassures himself as he struggles onwards and upwards, higher into the mountainous forest.

The Prince begins scaling a craggy pile of boulders and once cleared, he lands upon a level forest path. He staggers along, relieved to be rid of the steep incline. The path leads around an overgrown patch of brambles and when he reaches the other side, a modest hut comes into view between the trees.

"Master Jin's residence!" Prince Ahn breathes. He takes a knee to catch his breath. 

As Ahn draws nearer to the garden wall, the sound of conversation takes him by surprise. Nerves getting the best of him, he crouches behind a bush near the front gates.

"Get out!"

A body goes sprawling into the dirt at Ahn's feet and he scrambles to find a different bush to hide behind. 

"There’s nothing for you here, orphan. Beat it!" Master Jin yells again.

When he peeks through the branches, Ahn catches sight of a boy about his own age, scrabbling in the dirt. The boy struggles back onto his knees to beg pitifully at Master Jin's front gate. Upon closer inspection, his clothes are hopelessly tattered and the cuffs of his tunic and trousers are much shorter than they should be. When tears begin cutting tracks through the grime on his face, Ahn’s heart squeezes with sympathy.

A small child emerges from some unseen hiding place and runs to stand at the older boy’s side. He's just as frayed and dirty, and his eyes carry the harrowing look of prolonged hunger. Master Jin sees the child and looks away uncomfortably.

"Hyung-ah, let's go," the child whimpers through his own tears, tugging at the older boy's sleeve. 

"Please, sir. We'll earn our keep! I can chop wood, my brother can run all your errands, I'll cook and clean and tend to your residence! Please teach us," the boy begs as he bows into the dirt.

Ahn watches as the child looks up at Master Jin and finally catches the old man's attention. The child stands very still, each silent tear punctuating the depth of his pain and hunger. The Crown Prince has never seen a child cry so lifelessly before.

Apparently, Master Jin has. He stares at the child for a long han-filled moment before his face finally crumples with a knowing sadness. He takes the child’s hand and leads him through to a small stone well at the back corner of his madang. With a hush, the master pulls up a bucket of well water.

"When was the last time you had anything to eat?" Master Jin asks gruffly. He pulls off his own headband and dunks it into the bucket. The child obediently holds still as the master kneels and uses it to wipe his face. 

The older orphan rises to his feet and shakes his head. "I don't know, sir. A long time."

"I'll take you in, both of you, but you have to answer my question first."

The boy nods. "I'll answer as many questions as you want. Please, let us stay."

The master actually smiles over his shoulder. His face is not actually as old as all the gossip has led Ahn to believe.

"I only have one, so answer wisely." When the child's face is finally clean and dry, Master Jin rises to his feet. He turns to face the orphan boy standing at his front gate. 

"Why do you want to learn martial arts?"

The boy pauses to think. 

Ever the model student, Ahn is itching to blurt out his own answers. _For protection and strength!_ _To discipline the body!_

"Because I'm angry,” the boy finally says.

Master Jin grunts disapprovingly, but he waits for an explanation.

 _Wrong answer_ , Ahn thinks.

"Sir, I've lived but twelve short years on this unforgiving earth, but I am already _so_ angry. I'm angry at my parents for abandoning me. At Namsadang for using orphans as nothing but props for the stage. At Joseon for treating cheonmin like the dirt beneath their feet."

The master clears his throat, unimpressed by the emotional tirade, but the boy pleads again.

"Please, sir! I'm scared. I have nothing to my name but anger. What if it grows so big I can no longer control it? What if I grow up to be just like them?" The boy bows his head in shame.

Master Jin shrewdly watches and waits for the boy to continue.

"I want to learn control. I want to protect my soul and the few people in this world I _do_ care about…"

Ahn carefully leans into the leaves to see Master Jin's expression better. There is nothing but approval in his eyes now. _He's going to say yes._ The humbled Prince extracts himself from the bush to sit back against the garden wall. _How am I supposed to approach Master Jin now?_ he thinks, contrite with shame. _I only wanted to learn martial arts to get stronger. To protect myself and strike back at any threat that comes my way..._

The young prince takes his leave shortly after watching Master Jin prepare a meal for the orphans. Ahn returns to the palace, disheartened and thoroughly ashamed of himself (for complex reasons even he doesn't fully understand yet). It isn't until several days have passed that his curiosity gets the best of him. He dodges Yoon-negwan’s attempts to block his escape and returns to Master Jin's hut to check on the orphan’s progress.

When he arrives, Ahn climbs atop a large rock to peer over the garden wall. The younger boy sits on the porch, calmly observing the activity taking place in the madang. His hyung is now cleaned up as well and donning a slightly baggier outfit today (one that looks suspiciously like an old set of Master Jin’s own clothes). The orphan stands in the middle of the madang, palms pressed together in concentration as the master guides him through a martial arts lesson.

"Today we will learn about inner peace," Master Jin explains. “What is it? How to find it? And most importantly, how to keep it.” The boy stands very still, listening with his eyes closed. "When your soul is at peace, all your senses are heightened. If you can find it, you may use even your weakest senses to block any strike."

The master wields a hollow bamboo short-stick and begins a light battery of strikes to the orphan’s body. Quick jabs and harmless taps litter the boy’s shoulders and limbs at speeds Ahn can barely follow with his eyes. The young prince watches in awe as the boy becomes increasingly frustrated when he cannot block a single one. The final blow bops off the top of the orphan’s head. His eyes snap open as he swipes at the short-stick, red in the face and noticeably short-sighted by a flare of anger. 

Master Jin clasps the short-stick behind his back with finality. "No peace," he tuts. 

Ahn visits his spot at the garden wall like this frequently, nearly once a week for a few months, to learn in bits and pieces. He returns to the palace after each lesson, eager to review what he’s learned. Before long, he assembles a team of younger (and easily persuaded) junior guards for regular practice.

“Jeoha, your progress is impressive,” one of the junior guards compliments one day. “But it might be wise to be more discrete in front of your instructor…” 

Ahn lands an open-handed blow to the young guard’s flank before glancing over at the royal martial arts instructor. The idiot man circles the practice clearing, proudly observing what he thinks is the fruit of his own labors. The Crown Prince snorts. “It’s fine. Let him believe he is teaching me so both he and abba-mama will remain content with my studies.” 

The junior guard smirks and successfully blocks the Prince’s strike to his head. “Where are you learning all of this? If I may ask, Your Highness?” he splutters incredulously when Jeoha side-steps his punch and smoothly draws his wooden training sword, landing a solid slice to the guard’s chest armor. 

“You may ask all you like, but I can't tell you. It’s for your own safety,” Ahn grins. 

The next time Ahn visits Master Jin’s residence, he finds the madang empty. He rises to his toes for a better look, but there isn’t a single soul on the property. Then, a calloused hand grabs Ahn by the ear and drags him down from his peeking spot. The young prince yelps in pain as he stumbles along behind Master Jin. They pass through his front gates before the master releases Ahn’s ear and steps back to size the boy up. 

“I’ve caught the free-loader at last,” Master Jin growls. 

Ahn bows respectfully and stands at attention. “I’m very sorry for stealing lessons, sir. I wanted to formally ask you to accept me as your next student, but you already had your hands full when I arrived…”

“Why didn’t you try to join in?” the master asks out of genuine curiosity. 

“I didn’t have a good enough answer to your question, sir. I didn’t deserve your tutelage.”

Master Jin’s brows rise in amusement. “You’ve been hiding in the bushes since the very beginning, then? How interesting…" his gaze flicks up to the dragon insignia on Ahn’s forehead. "Who are you to determine whether you are worthy of _my_ teachings?”

“Oh, I… um,” Ahn stutters, too nervous to realize he's forgotten to heed Yoon-negwan’s advice today.

“Have you taken the time to rethink your answer?”

“Yes, sir. I have,” Ahn recovers confidently.

“Let’s hear it, then.”

Ahn takes a deep breath. “To make Joseon a better place.”

Master Jin stares deceptively, like Ahn’s left some sort of magnificent impression on him. Then he throws his head back and laughs (hard) right in Ahn’s face.

“A bean-sized kid like you? Make Joseon, what? A better place, you say?” He bursts into another round of noisy heckles. “I’d like to see you try!”

Master Jin whips out his short-stick and begins an impromptu sparring session. Ahn holds his own for the first few blows, blocking and deflecting the way he practiced with the junior guards.

“Oh ho ho, look at you! You've been practicing on your own!” It sounds condescending on the surface, but Master Jin really is impressed by Ahn’s tenacity. 

When the master catches sight of the dragon headband for a second time, an odd glint shines in his eyes. He retracts his short-stick to make a deal.

“Every few days, I deliver chopped wood to the neighboring village for a small fee. Do the work and bring me back the payments whenever you’d like a lesson. I'll teach you.”

Ahn’s eyes pop at this unprecedented development. “Thank you, master!” he exclaims with a deep bow. Now all Ahn has to do is figure out how to sneak out of the palace regularly enough to learn everything he wants to know.

* * *

“Did you really chop wood in exchange for martial arts lessons? With your _own_ hands?” Yugyeom asks in disbelief. 

“Sporadically over the span of a year or so, yes.” Jinyoung smiles fondly at the memory. “I actually learned a lot more than just martial arts that year.”

“And that's how you first met the acrobat hyung…”

“Well, we never officially met back then. I never saw him or Bongjoon again after they left Master Jin’s care. Until recently, of course.”

“The little one was _Bongjoon_?” Yugyeom chokes and tears suddenly well up in his eyes. “I had no idea he had such a rough childhood! He always seemed so smooth and well-rounded...” 

Jinyoung tilts his head at this strange, but somehow fitting description of the young performer. _Why is Yugyeom speaking of Bongjoon like a pebble he just plucked out of a river?_

“Wait, how do you know it was them? That was so many years ago. How can you be so sure?” Yugyeom asks.

Jinyoung nods in understanding. “I didn't recognize Jaegeun until the end of his jooltagi performance. When he landed that outrageous flip and stared out at the audience with that burning gaze… he looked so similar to the angry orphan boy I saw begging for Master Jin’s tutelage all those years ago. I wondered for a long time whether he was the one and the same. As for Bongjoon, I had no idea until I saw the two of them together again. It’s funny how sure I am of it now,” Jinyoung chuckles. 

The darkened oceanscape draws Yugyeom’s eye and he looks away from his hyung to sort through his thoughts. He steps up to the railing, resting his hands on the sanded wood for small comfort. Bongjoon... Namsadang… and everything in between, it’s all rolling through his mind in a new light. Jinyoung stares appreciatively at the inky waves that stretch beyond the pavilion on both sides. After several long minutes of thoughtful silence, the Crown Prince softly continues.

“The boy who was afraid his anger would consume him, even though that anger was all too justified… the boy who understood too much, too young and fought to rise above it before it could twist his soul towards evil… this whole time it was Wang Jaegeun. He is the first person who taught me, a privileged member of the royal family, that unfathomable hardship exists beyond the palace walls. He’s not just a strong performer with a fighting potential, Yugyeom-ah. He understands the world in a different way, by experience. He knows what is broken and what needs to be changed. And even in the midst of all that unrest, even after growing out of his childhood anger, he still has hope that it can be done.”

Yugyeom knew Jinyoungie-hyung was working on something big, but he never grasped the grander scope of it until now. The younger prince gawks at the horizon, impressed and deeply sobered by the Crown Prince’s words. 

“Do you understand why I must have him by my side now?” Jinyoung implores. 

Yugyeom glances at his hyung and nods. “I do. I just hope he turns out to be the person you think he is.”

“He will. I'm sure of it.” 

Now Yugyeom is worried about something else. “So... how much does abba-mama know?”

Jinyoung unclenches his suddenly tense jaw. "Just that I've been making friends on the outside. As an attempt to bring my own people into the palace someday. And that I recently spent a night outside doing so." He decides to sit on the King's heinous accusation of betrayal for a little while longer. The Crown Prince does not feel like alarming his brother right now.

Prince Youngbin closes his eyes in sympathy. "Small wonder. You know hyung, I never fully understood why abba-mama has been so obsessed with keeping you inside…” and suddenly another piece fits into place. “Did abba-mama find out that you were sneaking out?! Is that when he started confining you to the palace?”

Jinyoung nods sadly. “Yes.”

With a sigh, Yugyeom grasps his hyung’s shoulder in sympathy. “Sounds like it’s going to be a real mess this time…” 

The Crown Prince acknowledges this, but refuses to let it discourage him. "It'll be worth it."

Yugyeom turns to get a better look at Jinyoungie-hyung's face. "You think the acrobat hyung will stick to the plan?"

"I suppose it's too early to tell, but I hope so," Jinyoung responds as he clasps his hands behind his back.

"You like him," Yugyeom accuses with a smirk.

Jinyoung stiffens for a fraction of a second and proceeds to ignore his brother’s question entirely.

"You do, you _like_ him!"

"What's not to like?" Jinyoung placidly replies with an upturned hand. Then images of his previous day in the village come trickling to the forefront of his mind. 

Jaegeun... running through the snow... his big brown eyes filled with tender concern... the warmth of his embrace as the relentless blizzard swirled around the tiny hut... staying warm, surviving... under the blankets... together...

What Jinyoung chooses not to tell his brother now is that he was surprised by Jaegeun's abundant warmth. The evil anger he was so afraid of in his youth, there has not been a hint of it since they agreed to move forward with the plan. _Stop getting ahead of yourself_ , Jinyoung mentally scolds. _Yugyeom was right to point it out. It’s too soon to tell._ But Jinyoung still wants to take it as proof that the dangerous anger has long been extinguished. He hates to admit it even to himself, but Jinyoung knows what he felt when they were together. Like a moth to a flame, helplessly drawn towards Jaegeun’s brightness. Jinyoung pinches the bridge of his nose, recognizing the beginnings of a relentless headache. _Emotions are such a pain..._

Jinyoung feels Yugyeom's intent gaze on his profile and lowers his hand, awkwardly clearing his throat. "Wang Jaegeun is a good, trustworthy man. He cares about people."

"And he's _handsome_!" Yugyeom coos with a taunting glee. “The way he flipped off the rope and landed like it was nothing? You really can’t plan anything more perfect than a finale like that!" Yugyeom praises, thinking back on the summer again. 

Jinyoung mumbles in agreement as he tries to stifle his more recent memories of the handsome acrobat.

"I didn't realize you liked him enough to spend the night," Yugyeom cackles.

"It was snowing and I didn't have a horse," Jinyoung snaps. "It's lucky Bongjoon showed up with _his_ horse when he did. Otherwise I'd be in much more trouble right now."

"Wait, you saw Bongjoon?! He didn't ask you to give me a message, did he?"

Jinyoung's brow lifts slyly at an opportunity to turn the tables. "Have you kept in contact with Bongjoon this entire time?" 

"Of course! I went to nearly all their performances last summer and we've become very good friends," Yugyeom says matter of factly.

Jinyoung squints in an exaggerated effort to jog his memory. "If I remember correctly… Yes, I'm sure Bongjoon was wearing a headband with your mark on it. You made it for him yourself, didn't you?" Jinyoung asks with a knowing smirk.

"He was actually wearing it?!"

Jinyoung chuckles as he watches the delight twinkling in his brother's eyes, but it isn’t long before the younger prince's face morphs into sadness. 

"Did Bongjoon seem mad at all? We agreed to meet in Hanyang, but I couldn't make it. I couldn't leave eoma-mama here alone after abba-mama left the way he did… and it would be inappropriate for me to leave now that you've just arrived..."

"I'm sure he'll understand," Jinyoung reassures, unable to dampen his brother's spirits any further. Yugyeom nods sullenly with a little shiver and Jinyoung decides it's time to call it a night. "Yugyeom-ah, we're both turning to ice. Let's go inside."

Yugyeom agrees, and the brothers retreat to their shared quarters for some much needed warmth and rest.

* * *

After an entire night of sleeping with his back turned, Bongjoon rises early the next morning to mope on the porch. 

_Yugyeom stood me up. Jinyoung- naeuri stole my horse. Jaegeunie-hyung is quitting Namsadang. I'm stuck here in the dead of winter, freezing my ass off… _ Bongjoon idly runs his thumb across the embroidered headband clutched in his hand. _Why didn't Yugyeom show up yesterday?_

After the entire morning passes and Bongjoon still hasn't moved from his post, Jaegeun starts to worry. "Yah! Are you really going to sit there all day?" he yells from the madang. Jaegeun stops in the middle of sweeping away a pile of snow to glare at his younger brother.

Bongjoon grudgingly rises off the porch. He grabs a gourd bowl and glares right back at Jaegeun. "I'll help, but I'm not talking to you." 

"You just did," Jaegeun mocks childishly.

Bongjoon deadpans icily in response. Without another word, he stomps off to scoop snow away from the opposite end of the madang.

Jaegeun sighs. _He's never going to forgive me for this one._

Once the madang is more or less cleared, Jaegeun sets about cooking Bongjoon’s favorite meal. _Maybe this will soften him up a little?_ Jaegeun hopes as the kimchi stew bubbles in a large clay pot over the fire. He takes another peek over at the porch. Bongjoon is still sitting there, staring at nothing, looking surly and depressed. When the food is ready, Jaegeun takes the dishes inside the hut and sets the floor table for two. 

“Will you please come inside and eat something? You’ll catch a cold!” Jaegeun hollers through the doorway.

“Would it greatly inconvenience you if I got sick? Don’t mind if I do then,” Bongjoon replies coldly and stubbornly leans back against the wall of their hut.

Jaegeun pokes his head out the door to frown at his brother. “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

Bongjoon scowls. “That wasn’t talking. It was snarking.”

“Sorry, what did you say? Because it sounded a lot like you were talking to me.” 

Bongjoon huffs a forceful sigh. He spares Jaegeun another icy glare before looking away again.

“Hello there!” an unfamiliar voice calls.

The brothers forget their bickering for a moment to look toward the strange voice. A man dressed in decent winter clothing bows from the snowbanked road beyond the gate. He waves his reins and Jaegeun reluctantly gestures to the fence post, wordlessly indicating where the naeuri may tie down his horse.

The stranger approaches. “Would this be the residence of Wang Jaegeun?”

“Yes naeuri, that would be me.” Jaegeun replies with a hesitant bow. “May I ask your name? What brings you here?”

The naeuri bows in return. “My name is Joonwoo. I’m here on behalf of Jinyoung-naeuri.”

Jaegeun jumps to his feet and rushes to slip on his jipshin slippers. He scampers across the madang and ushers the stranger through the gate. 

“It seems I’ve interrupted your lunch. Kimchi stew?” 

Jaegeun nods, grimacing in discomfort as melted snow begins seeping through his straw soles.

The stranger steps up to the foot of the porch and eyes the empty place setting at the floor table. He turns toward Bongjoon. “May I trouble you for one bite? I’ve traveled such a long way…” 

“Help yourself,” Bongjoon replies flatly.

Jaegeun sighs and gestures at the table. “Come on in and eat, naeuri.” He removes his soggy jipshin, tossing them at Bongjoon in annoyance. As he takes a seat, he politely gestures for the naeuri to join him.

Joonwoo happily slips off his boots to join the table and they tuck in. “Delicious,” he mumbles through a very large mouthful. 

“Joonwoo-naeuri, may I ask why you’re here?” Jaegeun asks without looking up from his food. 

“I owe Jinyoung-naeuri a favor.” 

“Why couldn’t he come himself?” Jaegeun struggles to conceal how eager he is to hear any news about Jinyoung.

Joonwoo-naeuri tilts his head apologetically. “Ah, unfortunately he did not tell me as much. He simply asked me to come help you prepare for the Japgwa. I hear you’re quite the amateur scholar!”

Disappointed, Jaegeun nods his thanks and returns to his food.

After the dishes are cleared away (Joonwoo-naeuri did not leave a single morsel behind), Jaegeun clears the floor table for a study session. 

The new naeuri sits across the table and pulls his pack into his lap. “To pass the Japgwa, you’ll need to be as proficient at writing as you are at reading. Jinyoung-naeuri requested I focus on helping you in that area. Is that all right?”

“Yes, of course. I appreciate your help.”

Joonwoo-naeuri opens his pack and pulls out a roll of paper, brushes and a small pot of ink. He extracts a tightly wound scroll and hands it over to Jaegeun. “This is a practice Japgwa exam for you to take later, once you feel comfortable.”

Jaegeun unfurls the scroll and his eyes widen at the amount of effort this stranger has already put into helping him. “You wrote this yourself?”

Joonwoo-naeuri shrugs. “I do this for all my pupils.”

“Ah…” There’s something else that’s been bothering Jaegeun. “You must be a very close friend of Jinyoung-naeuri’s. Why else would you go through all this trouble at his mere request…”

“Oh, I owe him everything. And he is the Crown Prince, after all. How could I refuse?”

The rice-paper-paneled door bursts open on its hinges. Bongjoon leans over the threshold from his seat on the porch, eyes darting between his hyung and the stranger. “Excuse me. What did you just say?”

Joonwoo-naeuri smiles wanly. “Was Jinyoung’s identity supposed to be a secret? Did I just make a grave mistake?” he asks Jaegeun through clenched teeth.

Jaegeun wonders at Joonwoo-naeuri’s sudden lack of honorifics and his smooth evasion of the question. _I guess they really are close friends._ Jaegeun scratches at the back of his head. “He was bound to find out sooner or later. Don’t worry about it, naeuri.”

Bongjoon continues looking back and forth between the two in shock and disbelief. 

“Bongjoon-ah? We’re trying to study--”

“You’re not studying, you’re talking. About the Crown Prince. Who is also apparently the same person as Jinyoung-naeuri.” Bongjoon comes inside and takes a seat at the floor table. He gives Jaegeun’s side a sharp nudge with his foot. “You never tell me anything!” 

“You were too busy not talking to me,” Jaegeun reminds his brother with a curled lip.

“Just because _I_ wasn't talking to _you_ , doesn't mean _you_ couldn't have kept talking to _me,_ ” Bongjoon argues.

Before Jaegeun can make any sort of retort, Joonwoo-naeuri interrupts the noisy bickering. “Ah, so you are Bongjoon of the Namsadang troupe?” he asks loudly. 

With a mildly curious glance, Bongjoon nods.

Joonwoo-naeuri pulls a note from his sleeve and unrolls it. “I have a message for you. From Prince Youngbin.”

“Prince Youngbin?” Bongjoon asks with a frown. 

“You may know him as Yugyeom. The Crown Prince’s younger brother.” 

Bongjoon closes his eyes, feeling cold and faint after receiving yet another surprise so soon after the news about Jinyoung-naeuri. 

Jaegeun pauses to do the math. “Hang on. Your new friend is Jinyoung’s younger brother?” He barks out a laugh at the amusing coincidence.

“It took you this long to tell me you had a message for me?” Bongjoon glares at the strange naeuri.

Joonwoo-naeuri’s wan smile returns. “May I remind you that the Crown Prince is the one to whom I owe my life? Prince Youngbin saw an opportunity to piggyback on his hyung’s request and asked me to deliver this message to you as an act of service. I intend to demand an appropriate payment once it is complete.” 

“Delivering a message takes much higher priority than reading some lousy books,” Bongjoon scoffs.

“We were actually going to work on my writing skills…” Jaegeun meekly clarifies, but a startling change in atmosphere sweeps through the room like an ice-cold breeze.

Jaegeun and Bongjoon turn their heads to watch in awe as Joonwoo-naeuri’s chin juts out in anger. 

“May I also remind you that I only just learned your name?” Joonwoo-naeuri turns to stare at Bongjoon, his eyes narrowed down to dangerous slits. “This punk didn’t even have the manners to introduce himself and now he’s blaming me for the delay,” he mutters under his breath. 

“HA! HAHA!” Jaegeun laughs awkwardly to break the chilly atmosphere. “How about that message, naeuri? What does Prince Youngbin--uh Yugyeom, have to say to Bongjoon here?” He smacks Bongjoon’s arm for being rude and gestures at him to pay attention.

Joonwoo-naeuri clears his throat and begrudgingly holds out the message. “Bongjoon-ah, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you until you forgive me. See you soon,” he reads monotonously and shoves the note into Bongjoon’s hands. “There. Message delivery complete.” 

Bongjoon curls his fingers around the tiny roll of paper and smiles, completely reassured now. He pulls out the black headband and proudly ties it back over his forehead. “Hyung, are there any leftovers? I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, yeah, hang on,” Jaegeun replies with a smile. He should have realized there was more on Bongjoon’s mind than just the Namsadang issue. 

Once Bongjoon is happily digging into a fresh bowl of rice accompanied by a steaming bowl of kimchi stew, Jaegeun finally sits down to practice his writing. 

“Hey naeuri, why do you keep saying you owe Jinyoung-naeuri\--er I mean, Seja Jeoha, your life?" Bongjoon asks cheerfully.

"It would be best to continue addressing him as Jinyoung-naeuri outside of the palace," Joonwoo corrects. "As for owing him my life, there was a time not so long ago when I was living in a village a lot like this one..."

As Joonwoo-naeuri prepares to tell them a personal story, Jaegeun drops his chin into his palm and pouts. _I guess I won't be studying much today after all..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this chapter with a pretty clear idea of where it was going and then it got so long that I had to splice it into a bonus chapter? Welcome to the team, Joonwoo-naeuri! Hope we aren't getting tired of all the flashbacks yet 😅


	8. The Japgwa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Japgwa looms closer, but Jinyoung is nowhere to be found, leaving Jaegeun frustrated and even more determined to pass with flying colors. We learn a bit about Joonwoo's past and when spring arrives, Bongjoon and Yugyeom's friendship blossoms.

The next morning, Jaegeun wakes to the smell of leftover kimchi stew.

"Jaegeunie-hyung! I cooked some food, are you up?"

Jaegeun pokes his head out, hair mussed from sleep as he squints in the winter morning light. "Do you really think reheating counts as cooking?" he croaks. 

Moments later, Bongjoon brings their meal inside with a bright smile.

"You're awfully cheerful this morning," Jaegeun grumbles. 

"Oh, I'm still mad at you for quitting Namsadang, but I can't blame you for wanting to find your parents. It's too complicated. I've decided not to think about it for now. The most important thing is that Yugyeom is still my friend," Bongjoon says with a satisfied grin.

Jaegeun smirks and takes a large bite of rice. "Guess you'll want to learn how to read and write pretty soon too."

"What for?" Bongjoon mumbles around his own mouthful.

"Don't you wanna be able to write messages back to your friend? And read his future ones? Privately?"

Bongjoon chews thoughtfully. "I guess you've got a point." They eat in comfortable silence for a moment. "Do you think Joonwoo-naeuri was telling us the truth?" Bongjoon asks out of the blue.

Jaegeun's chewing slows under a furrowed brow. "About what?"

"His halmeoni being a mudang fortuneteller... how Jinyoung-naeuri helped him overcome cheonmin status..."

Joonwoo-naeuri had spent the better part of the previous afternoon telling them all about his cheonmin hardships. First about how he grew up in his mudang grandmother’s household and how they were feared and treated as outcasts in their own village. Then to escape the scorn, Joonwoo ran away to Hanyang, promising that he’d come back for his family once he could make a living without relying on fortune telling as their main trade. He somehow wheedled his way into underground book smuggling while he lived on the streets, working as a runner to acquire banned texts for black market booksellers. 

Then one day, Jinyoung passed through a back alley while hunting for a rare classical text. He caught sight of Joonwoo in a sticky situation with a vile yangban, the eldest son of a well-to-do sea merchant. The yangban had just caught Joonwoo in the middle of a book run and stopped him to complain about street rat smugglers ruining his family’s business. The situation had escalated to the point of setting his entire book haul on fire before the yangban started beating Joonwoo to a bloody pulp. If Jinyoung hadn't stepped in when he had, Joonwoo might have been left for dead in a dirty alleyway, turning to ash on top of a pile of burning books.

It wasn't until Joonwoo-naeuri began describing Jinyoung’s involvement that Jaegeun paid more rapt attention to his story. Jinyoung helped Joonwoo escape and hide from the yangban’s henchmen, taking the time to teach him how to read the books he'd only ever thought about stealing. With Jinyoung’s help, Joonwoo eventually began making money as a tutor and transcriber, writing out perfect copies of popular books to sell back to officially recognized bookshops. Not long after that, Jinyoung nudged him towards court transcription. He helped Joonwoo study and complete all the necessary qualifications before finally revealing his true identity as the Crown Prince on a mission.

Hearing Joonwoo-naeuri's story makes Jaegeun feel oddly uncomfortable. It all sounds so similar to Jaegeun’s experience of meeting Jinyoung and beginning his own studies. _Is it too much of a coincidence?_

Jaegeun carefully peers at Bongjoon over his bowl of stew. "Why would Joonwoo-naeuri tell us such a huge lie?"

Bongjoon shrugs. "I don't know. To convince you to continue trusting Jinyoung-naeuri," he says with a suspicious frown.

After giving this notion some honest thought, Jaegeun still can't figure out what Bongjoon is _really_ trying to say. "Would it be such a bad thing to trust him?"

His brother’s frown deepens. "It's just… I've heard that working in the palace isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Jaegeun suppresses the urge to scold his brother for believing every tidbit of gossip he picks up from the market aunties. He sets down his spoon and quietly waits for his brother to elaborate.

"Palace jobs are very cut-throat and it's hard to make trustworthy friends on the inside. It's nearly impossible to quit and you rarely get to go on leave once you’re in! It's obviously too late to try and persuade you out of it now, but I'm worried it'll be hard for you to adjust to court life… after all your hard work just to get in..." Bongjoon looks down at his food, appetite now sufficiently lost. 

The clarity only comes when Jaegeun gets a glimpse of the sadness in his brother's eyes. "You don't think we'll be able to see each other much once I make it in…"

"Well, you definitely won't be living _here_ anymore," Bongjoon confirms.

* * *

The rest of the winter is marked by Joonwoo-naeuri's frequent visits to the village. He helps Jaegeun improve his writing and test-taking skills and even agrees to help Bongjoon learn hangeul (but only in exchange for a meal after each study session). Eventually, the brothers give up asking Joonwoo-naeuri for any news of the sibling princes. Every time either of them asks, Joonwoo-naeuri’s reply is always the same. 

“They’re still at the Ocean Palace. No other news yet.”

In the last couple weeks before the Japgwa, Joonwoo-naeuri brings more scrolls of practice tests and Jaegeun begins studying them with renewed fervor. He pushes aside his hurt feelings at Jinyoung’s prolonged absence and the constant worry that something bad might have happened. _I have to stay focused if I want to see him again,_ Jaegeun reminds himself on infinite repeat as the exam date draws nearer. 

With three days left until the exam, the sun comes out to finally melt all the snow away. Bongjoon eventually agrees to help the villagers plant their new crops, while Jaegeun politely declines so he can continue studying. Spring rapidly approaches and with it, another visitor makes his way to the village.

“Yugyeom-ah!” Bongjoon exclaims from the front gate one afternoon, having only just returned from a job at the pepper fields himself. 

Jaegeun looks up from his seat on the porch where books, papers, and scrolls are splayed out on the floor table under his elbows. He watches as the prince approaches atop Bongjoon’s horse in his yangban disguise, a spring green hanbok topped with the ever-familiar horsehair gat. The prince gracefully dismounts and runs to greet Bongjoon with a happy smile.

“I’ve come to return your horse! Jinyoungie-hyung took good care of him through the winter. He says to pass on his thanks for helping him travel to Hanyang and the Ocean Palace in a timely manner.” 

Bongjoon walks up to his horse and Yugyeom follows, grabbing the reins to hand them over with another infectious smile. Bongjoon takes the reins and the prince reaches up to pull a silk-wrapped bundle out of the saddle bag. The young performer is too distracted by this long-awaited reunion to take much notice of the mysterious package.

“It’s so good to see you, friend. And you too Baram!” Bongjoon replies as he pats his horse and ties the reins to the fencepost. He reaches down to check that the horse’s water bucket is full and then beckons Yugyeom to follow. “Come on in and spend some time with my hyung while I wash up. I just got back from the fields.”

Bongjoon leads Yugyeom through to the madang and gives a gestured introduction between his friend and his hyung. Jaegeun quickly stands and stumbles down from the porch to pay his respects to Prince Youngbin.

“We meet, at last!” Yugyeom gushes as he rushes forward in warm greeting, clasping one of the acrobat’s hands in both his own. “I’m such a huge fan. Your jooltagi set last summer was amazing!” 

Jaegeun blinks in surprise. He’d nearly forgotten all about Namsadang in his enthusiasm to prepare for the Japgwa. “I’m so honored. Thank you Daegoon-mama,” Jaegeun says with a respectful bow.

“Ey, Joonwoo-hyung told you about the prince thing, didn’t he? Even after I begged him not to.” Yugyeom grimaces as Bonjoon sidles up to scrutinize his friend at close range.

“Since you came all the way here yourself, I’ll forgive you for keeping it a secret,” Bongjoon relents, smiling in spite of himself. He turns away to heat up some water for the small wooden tub around the opposite side of the hut, leaving Jaegeun awkwardly alone with the prince. 

Yugyeom takes a seat on the porch and Jaegeun joins him. “This is for you,” the prince says as he pulls a smaller parcel out of the blue silk wrappings. He hands it over to the acrobat.

“For me? What? Why?” Jaegeun stammers, still a little uncomfortable in the presence of royalty.

“Come on, take it! It’s from Jinyoungie-hyung.”

At this, Jaegeun’s stomach flutters like it’s full of butterflies before he catches himself with a calming breath. He takes the flattish bundle into his hands and inspects it. It’s rather light, soft, and wrapped in white cotton. He gingerly unties the knot to reveal…

“Hanbok?” Jaegeun whispers in awe as he runs his hands over the clean fabric. The outfit consists of a sleeveless navy blue tunic layered over an off-white jacket and brown trousers, all fashioned from thickly woven cuts of cotton. To Jaegeun's greatest pleasure, there’s also a navy headband inside the bundle. 

“I wanted to get you something nicer, but Jinyoungie-hyung said it would be best for you to blend in with the other sangmin laborers who will be taking the Japgwa alongside you. Wear the outfit for the next few days to soften the fabric up. Then you’ll look just like all the other farmers and tradesmen,” Yugyeom relays, exactly as Jinyoungie-hyung requested.

“Thank you,” Jaegeun replies as he gives Yugyeom a watery glance. He’s never had enough money to spare on such richly dyed clothing before. 

“Oh no, don’t thank me! This is all part of Jinyoungie-hyung’s plan,” Yugyeom says with an endearing smile.

“Thank you for coming all this way to deliver it then,” Jaegeun amends.

“I know it’s probably disappointing to be receiving this from me instead of from hyung himself…” Yugyeom trails off and Jaegeun’s expression pinches with concern. Sensing this, the prince prepares to go against his hyung's wishes. “I’m not supposed to tell you this but, if I were you, I think I’d want to know.”

“What is it?” the acrobat asks as he eagerly turns to face the young prince.

“Jinyoungie-hyung was banished to the Ocean Palace after the blizzard. I don't think it's permanent and I don’t know exactly why, but hyung must have argued with our father in Hanyang. He came straight to the Ocean Palace and got really sick soon after, so he couldn’t have left even if he wanted to. The royal command confines him to remain inside the palace at all times though...”

Jaegeun’s entire body coils with worry and guilt. _No wonder he hasn't come for a visit._ “It’s my fault. The fire went out while he was stuck here with me during the blizzard. We woke up nearly frozen that night!” 

Yugyeom grasps Jaegeun’s shoulder and shakes his head. “No, hyung. May I call you hyung?" Yugyeom asks hopefully and Jaegeun barely thinks before granting his permission with a small nod. "Jinyoungie-hyung knew you’d feel this way. He explicitly told me to tell you not to blame yourself. It was because he rode to the city and then all the way to the coast in a single day. He was bound to get ill after so much travel in the dead of winter. Though I think the stress from our father had a big part in it too.”

Still, Jaegeun is not completely consoled. He wrings his hands in his lap, the new clothing now forgotten at his side. It's driving him crazy knowing there's nothing he can do to help. _Should I borrow Baram and ride to the Ocean Palace?_ But Jaegeun already knows how ridiculous it would be to show up and demand the Crown Prince’s presence in public. It would compromise their goal for Jaegeun to secretly infiltrate the palace. _And the Japgwa is in three days..._

"Is he still very sick?" Jaegeun ultimately asks.

Yugyeom shakes his head. "No, he's recovering now. I think he'll return to Hanyang with our mother. It'll be soon, now that spring is here."

Then Bongjoon appears from around the corner of the hut, freshly washed and clothed. He hops up onto the porch next to Yugyeom, vigorously rubbing a clean linen over his wet hair to help it dry faster. 

“Here’s the fabric you asked for,” Yugyeom says as he hands over the remaining items wrapped in the blue silk.

Bongjoon tosses the damp linen aside and gleefully unwraps his bundle. He holds up a length of deep violet cotton in a similar sturdy weave to Jaegeun’s new outfit. Another bundle of snow-white cloth is revealed at the bottom of the parcel and Bongjoon grins in excitement. “Thanks, Yugyeom-ah!”

“You’re really going to design your own hanbok?” Yugyeom asks incredulously.

Bongjoon nods as he folds his new treasures back into a neat stack on the porch. “The tailor auntie finally agreed to teach me. My design will be the next big fashion trend, just wait and see,” he gloats. “In the meantime, hyung let’s see your new clothes!”

Jaegeun emerges from the hut a few minutes later, dapper in his crisp hanbok. He enjoys the feeling of the new cotton against his skin and especially loves the way the headband keeps his top knot nice and neat. He makes a mental note to thank Jinyoung the next time they see each other. Jinyoung’s poem is already tucked in the front fold of his tunic, where it can safely guard his heart while they're apart. _Soon_ , Jaegeun thinks with a small smile.

After another few minutes of enjoying Bongjoon and Yugyeom’s praises (which quickly evolve into a shockingly noisy racket of hooting and hollering), Jaegeun shoos them away. “All right kids, go play somewhere else. This hyung has three days left before the Japgwa. I need peace and quiet to concentrate.”

Bongjoon and Yugyeom obediently leave Jaegeun to his studies to go for a walk. 

“You and Jinyoung-naeuri sure took us for fools,” Bongjoon chuckles as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“Forgive me, friend,” Yugyeom begs. “Would you have believed us if we introduced ourselves as royal princes that day at the market?”

Bongjoon purses his lips and shakes his head. “Probably not. Took you long enough to come clean though.”

Yugyeom chews on his top lip, not sure what else to say to assuage his friend's sulking.

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?” Bongjoon asks as he shoots his friend a sidelong glance, brow arching high in amused annoyance.

“Jinyoungie-hyung is trying to bring your hyung into the palace,” Yugyeom blurts out.

“Ah yeah, Jaegeunie-hyung told me all about that,” Bongjoon dissmisses with a huff. He’s still not sure how he feels about it, so he’d rather not discuss it right now.

“How about this, then?” Yugyeom stops and lightly takes hold of Bongjoon’s arm. He pulls something off his own wrist and swiftly wraps it around Bongjoon’s, knotting it securely.

Bongjoon holds up his forearm to inspect the new accessory. It’s a thick bracelet, intricately braided from multiple strands of familiar-looking fabric. The various colors wind together to form a soft cord that isn't too abrasive on his skin. When Bongjoon looks more closely, he notices a charm dangling from the cord. It’s a white river stone carved into the flying bird symbol. He pulls put his black headband to compare the embroidery to the charm and it's an exact match. 

“Wah, what's this?” Bongjoon says with a pleased smile. 

“A gift! Because I’m so sorry for lying…” Yugyeom raises his own wrist. “I have one too! Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect,” Bongjoon smiles and they continue walking along a narrow path leading into the forest. 

“So… am I forgiven now?” Yugyeom asks hopefully.

In response, Bongjoon whips out a folded piece of paper, an odd expression on his face as he wordlessly holds it out to his friend. 

“Mm?” the prince intones curiously. 

Bongjoon scratches at the back of his neck. “It’s the first letter I’ve ever written. I’ve been learning hangeul from Joonwoo-naeuri.” 

“And you chose to write to _me_?” Yugyeom tries to hide his smile, a little embarrassed but touched all the same. “Um, how am I supposed to react right now? I don’t think I’ve ever received a letter like this before. From the hands of the same person who wrote it, I mean.” Yugyeom laughs.

“I was going to send it with Joonwoo-naeuri if he decided to visit us tomorrow, but here you are today!” Bongjoon whines, regretting his decision to give Yugyeom the letter himself. 

Yugyeom throws his head back in hearty laughter. Bongjoon scowls, but his friend pats him on the back in reassurance. “It’s okay, I’ll read it and write back when I return to the palace. We can pretend it was delivered to me there!”

At this, Bongjoon begins laughing at the awkwardness as well. “It’s really nothing much, but I do appreciate you not reading it right here in front of me,” he says with a nudge to Yugyeom’s side. 

The two friends continue along the forest path and come upon Bongjoon’s favorite thinking spot, a grassy clearing next to a stream. They sit side by side, skipping stones and catching up. Once they naturally reach the point of serene silence, Bongjoon’s deeper worries begin floating up to the surface of his thoughts. Hair now completely dry, he pulls it up into a top knot, securing it with his black headband as he thinks.

“I have a question for you,” he says in a sobering tone.

Yugyeom peers curiously over at his friend. “Of course. Ask away.”

“Do you think… Is Jaegeunie-hyung going to be okay when he makes it into the palace?”

“Yah! What’s that supposed to mean?” Yugyeom asks with a playful cuff off of Bongjoon’s shoulder (he’s been surviving in the palace since birth after all), but his friend is too worried to respond as lightly in kind. “Bongjoon-ah?”

“I’m just worried. Do you think hyung will be able to handle… whatever Jinyoung-naeuri has planned for him?”

Yugyeom doesn't want to lie to his best friend. "I don't know, but if he's going to be the Crown Prince’s personal guard…"

Bongjoon presses his lips together in a hard line of alarm and quickly attempts to mask it with sarcasm. "That... doesn't sound dangerous at all." He rubs at the back of his neck, now tense with concern. "Jaegeunie-hyung didn't tell me that part of the plan…"

"I don't think he knows that part of the plan yet," Yugyeom replies with a pained expression. "I probably wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but you looked so worried. I wanted to be honest."

Bongjoon clenches his teeth and looks out over the burbling stream to remain calm. "This is probably a dumb question with an obvious answer but… why exactly is the Crown Prince going through so much trouble to find a personal guard anyway?" 

Yugyeom nods in understanding and takes on a practiced royal candor before responding. "The burden of the crown is obvious for the King, but maybe not so much for the Crown Prince. In a way, the Crown Prince's burden is much heavier… he may be first in line to the throne, but he'll always be second in power to the King, so long as they're both alive and well. That kind of proximity to the throne can be dangerous. And when the succession of power begins… sometimes the people who claim to be the King's allies, turn around to become the Crown Prince's enemies."

After hearing this, Bongjoon stands, gripping a flat skipping rock tightly in his fist before viciously flinging it at the stream. The force of his throw sends it straight to the bottom instead of skimming it lightly over the water's surface. "So you're saying my brother has unknowingly agreed to protect _your_ brother from assassination attempts and other potentially dangerous situations."

"Well, yes. But I know Jinyoungie-hyung will explain everything and give your hyung a chance to refuse the position when the time comes," Yugyeom defends. 

"He should have explained it all _before_ giving Jaegeunie-hyung all those books," Bongjoon scowls. 

Yugyeom knows Bongjoon is right, but there's nothing either of them can do to change anything now. He watches on as Bongjoon fumes before the stream, balling his hands into fists over and over again. Then it occurs to him. "You're mad that he's quitting Namsadang…"

Bongjoon stills. Feeling defeated, he slumps down to the grass and flops onto his back to stare up at the clouds. Yugyeom quietly lays down next to his friend to keep him company.

"Troupe life is simple, Yugyeom-ah," Bongjoon begins softly. 

The prince turns to watch his friend's profile as Bongjoon begins speaking from the heart.

"The only things that change are the small details within our performances, and they're complicated enough to keep our minds and bodies busy all year round. We perform to earn as much money as we can during the warmer months, then we use those savings to scrape by through the colder ones as we plan for the next performance season. People love us until they hate us, but it doesn't matter because in the troupe, we have each other and that's all we need." Bongjoon runs a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted. "I don't know why Jaegeunie-hyung was so quick to throw away our simple way of life. Has it really been so hard for him?"

Yugyeom wonders whether this is a rhetorical question or not. He decides to wait and sure enough, Bongjoon continues.

"I know there are a lot of reasons to hate being cheonmin, it can be unbearable for a lot of reasons, but we've had to overcome the struggle so often over the years that it doesn't feel like a big deal anymore, at least not to me…"

“Even I can see Namsadang isn’t the issue, Bongjoon-ah,” Yugyeom says kindly.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know your brother very well yet,” Yugyeom treads carefully, “but from watching his performances alone, I can tell he loves the stage. I think being a part of Namsadang and being cheonmin have become separate issues for your hyung," he finishes gently.

When Bongjoon thinks quietly to himself, Yugyeom turns and pillows his arms under his head to look up at the sky as well. “I think the problems our hyungs want to fix are bigger than anything else they’ve ever worried about… so it’s not surprising that they’re setting everything else aside to focus on them right now.” 

“Are you sure they’re on the same side?” Bongjoon asks, still apprehensive that Jinyoung-naeuri’s plans may reach much further than either of them can predict.

Yugyeom considers this. “I’m not sure of anything, actually.” 

At this, Bongjoon laughs and Yugyeom is relieved to feel the tension slipping away from their conversation. 

“Maybe we’re getting a little too deep about things we don’t fully understand,” Bongjoon says with a humbled chuckle.

Yugyeom nods, but he remembers something equally disturbing he’s been meaning to ask. “Are you sure being a member of Namsadang is as simple as you think?”

Bongjoon turns to look at his friend, confused and curious. “What are you implying?” he asks innocently.

“I overheard an odd conversation a while ago...”

“You’ve been eavesdropping on the market aunties haven’t you?” Bongjoon sniggers.

“No, I think it was between a few of your Namsadang elders, actually…” Yugyeom throws a cautious glance at his friend.

Bongjoon slowly sits up, looking perplexed. He peers down into Yugyeom’s face with a shadow of doubt now darkening his own. “What did you hear? Tell me everything.”

* * *

Jaegeun stands before the palace gates at the center of Hanyang, dressed handsomely in his sangmin clothing. A scroll containing an official copy of his exam application is clutched in his clammy hands and he paces back and forth in agitated anticipation. He’s never been this nervous before any of his Namsadang performances, but he supposes taking the Japgwa will never fully compare to performing in front of an audience. He glances at the handful of other test takers gathering nearby, wishing Bongjoon hadn’t accepted the job at the perilla farm this morning so at least his brother could have been here to help him stay calm. _Jinyoung is dead to me now,_ Jaegeun thinks crossly as he bounces on his toes. _I can’t believe he didn’t think to send me a single letter. Not even a simple good luck message!_

“Jaegeunie-hyung!” 

Jaegeun turns to find Prince Youngbin and Joonwoo-naeuri walking towards the palace entrance to meet him. He waves at them halfheartedly, too anxious to put any polite pep into his greeting.

“This hyung is so nervous, look at him. Hyung, I think your hands are shaking,” Yugyeom says as he lightly elbows Joonwoo-naeuri’s side in amusement. 

“It’s natural to be nervous. The Japgwa is a very serious matter,” Joonwoo-naeuri adds with a gracious nod.

“Thank-you-very-much-naeuri-that’s-very-helpful,” comes Jaegeun’s shuddering reply as he forgets to breathe. He glares fiercely at the two of them. “Do I really have to do this?”

“No, you don’t,” Joonwoo-naeuri replies honestly. 

“But then you may never see Jinyoungie-hyung ever again,” Yugyeom dramatically points out, watching with pity as Jaegeun deflates in acknowledgment. Yugyeom glances around for any eavesdroppers. When he spots none, he leans toward Jaegeun’s ear, careful not to say anything that would give away their true identities. “Jinyoungie-hyung is back to full health, so don’t worry! Normally he would be present on a day like this, but he’s still tied up at the coastal residence. Just forget about him for the next few hours and focus on passing!”

Though he’s disappointed, Jaegeun nods. He has to admit it’s a huge relief to know he won’t be distracted by the Crown Prince’s presence during the exam. _I guess I’ll have to wait a little longer to see what he looks like in the dragon robes,_ Jaegeun thinks ruefully.

“Ah, before I forget. You may not have noticed if you haven’t opened that scroll yet, but Jinyoung-naeuri requested a name change for you when he had me submit your exam application,” Joonwoo-naeuri explains calmly.

“Why? What’s wrong with my name?” Jaegeun splutters.

Joonwoo-naeuri shrugs. “He didn’t tell me as much.”

“That’s all you ever say,” Jaegeun scowls. “So what is it?”

“Don’t worry, hyung. Your new name is very handsome. Look!” Yugyeom takes the scroll from Jaegeun’s hands and unfurls it just enough to show the top half of the application.

Just then, a royal attendant opens the palace gates and begins reading names off his list of applicants. Jaegeun gulps and forgets to memorize his new name as he paces back and forth again.

“Here, use this seal to stamp the bottom of your test papers when you’re done.” Yugyeom slips a cylindrical piece of carved wood into one of Jaegeun's hands before rolling up the scroll and returning it to the other.

Jaegeun tucks the seal away and clutches his application a little too tightly, crinkling and dampening the paper in his jittery, clammy hands. 

“You’ll be fine. Your practice tests were flawless. Be confident in your knowledge,” Joonwoo-naeuri says just loudly enough for Jaegeun to hear over the growing din of the crowd. 

“Thank you, naeuri. For everything,” Jaegeun says with a meaningful bow. 

“Wang Seun!” the attendant calls out over the crowd.

“That’s you!” Yugyeom says. He shoves Jaegeun toward the line of test takers assembling themselves at the palace gates. 

“Good luck, hyung!”

* * *

Prince Ahn boils with fury as the royal guard blocks his way, expressionless and mute under his wide-brimmed hat.

“This is ridiculous. I said stand aside. Take your comrads and retreat. That’s a royal command!” Ahn nearly begs.

The guard bows and silently returns to his post in front of Ahn’s Ocean Palace quarters, blatantly ignoring the Crown Prince’s words. _ Abba-mama has obviously commanded them not to listen or say a single word to me, _ Ahn guesses. His only visitors throughout the entire winter have been a royal physician, Prince Youngbin, and eoma-mama. Not a single one of Ahn’s own attendants has been anywhere in sight. The palace has always been a lonely place, but abba-mama has stooped to new lows to make it even more so for the Crown Prince these days.

Ahn looks out the window for the umpteenth time this morning, knowing full-well that the Japgwa is about to begin in Hanyang. He stares out at the perfectly fluffy clouds as they float by without a care, blissfully unaware of Ahn’s dilemma down below in his empty chambers, unable to break out of the palace in any conceivable way. The guards have been stationed every few feet around the entire perimeter of his quarters for weeks now. Ahn easily figured out that they’d been instructed to take their breaks in precise rotation, making it next to impossible for Ahn to sneak past at any hour of the day or night. Even the letters he's attempted to sneak out with his brother have been confiscated every single time. 

“Jaegeun-ah, I’m so sorry,” Jinyoung whispers to the wind. He’d really been looking forward to seeing Jaegeun at the palace in his new hanbok. There's nothing he wouldn't give to be there now to wish him good luck. In fact, Ahn is still daydreaming about watching over Jaegeun sit for the exam, even though it's impossible. 

“He’ll do great,” Jinyoung says to himself as he returns to his study. He sits at the ornate desk and takes up a fine-tipped brush to begin writing in his journal again. “This lockdown won’t last forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's chapter might have been a little longer if I waited another week to post it, but after I spent some time shoveling snow yesterday, I was reminded of Jaegeun and wanted to post it asap. That way we can get moving along to the good stuff! Said good stuff coming soon :D


End file.
